IonMine

by RCG Ward

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All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication, reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means

electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise,or stored in a retrieval system without the prior written

consent of the publisher — or in the case of photocopyingor other reprographic copying, license from the CanadianCopyright Licensing Agency — is an infringement of the

copyright law.

Although this is a work of historical fiction, beginning in 1978, none of it is true. Much of it may be impossible.

Any resemblance to persons living or dead is unlikely,and certainly unintended.

Copyright © 2019 RCG Ward

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Chapter 1

Outrunning the big river downstream on foot was impossible butSami could pace the flow mile after mile on his bicycle. His 10-speed had also done some leg-numbing climbing but that bike was no good off-road and he’d already ridden as high as there was pavement. Unlike the river the town stayed where it was, frozen in time. Sami had to get away.

It was string theory. Physics beyond experimental evidence, nothing provable, everything on faith like a religion. Quantum physics might be impossible to understand but every time the math worked exactly, explaining things in the real world that couldn’t be explained any other way. That had all been proved back in 1930 but now it was 1978. Almost fifty years with nothing new. No wonder researchers were grasping at strings.

From the river going up toward the ski resort there were three main hills. The first was a quarter-mile at a twelve per cent grade. He got into his lowest gear and stood on the pedals. After half a mileon the flat the next hill was a ten per cent grade for three-quarters of a mile. During the middle part he could sit down on the saddle. If he was feeling strong he might be able to use the second lowest gear.

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The rest of the road averaged a seven per cent grade over three miles, but by then he was warmed up and, after doing the ride three or four times a week for a couple of months, he no longer needed to walk the last part.

But that was nowhere near as high as he could go when he was in the mood. On days when he was willing to ride a thirty-six mile round trip he could climb almost four thousand feet and the ride home would be as fast as he dared.

He liked relying on his own legs. Human power. All forms of artificial energy were suspect these days. Twenty years ago people believed there was no fuel like an old fuel. Oil was okay. Coal was okay. Not now.

Fifty years ago electricity was the big controversy. Thomas Edison, with a patent on direct current, electrocuted an elephant to show how dangerous Tesla’s new alternating current was. Ban them both! Sami wondered briefly what a world without electricity would be like.

He’s spent time in a cabin with a coal oil lantern so lighting would be okay, but he’d miss modern music: radio and stereo speakers and electric guitars. That said, people were already shifting back to the old-fashioned pleasure of acoustic instruments.

Sami was getting into good shape but he was still riding a bike that skidded on any kind of gravel, let alone the small loose rocks that collected on every hiking trail. The good news was that down in California a few people were starting to refit old balloon-tired bikes that would go downhill at speed and bump over a few pebbles without going out of control. Sami had started with a rusty balloon-tired Norco that was so slow to ride it had almost put him off bicycling for life. After a couple of years he’d gotten the 10-speed, a

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Raleigh Grand Prix, and discovered that cycling was something he really enjoyed, even to the point that he’d cleaned up the Norco frame and built himself a mountain bike.

It felt good to have it all working: the cantilever hand brakes, particularly on the front wheel; the tiny chain ring he’d had to send away for; the inch and a half knobby tires where he let the air out forthe trail and pumped it back up for the highway. He’d fallen a few times before he’d gotten the balance right but now he could ride to the trailhead, climb the path and ride home again after.

The bad news was that for the first part of the day, climbing on pavement, carrying two water bottles for the heat, mountain bike peddling was half again as hard compared to the 10-speed, even witheighty pounds pressure in the tires; but he kept going, he walked a bit, and in just over an hour he was off-road.

And then the world was peaceful. Back on the highway there wasn’t much traffic but what there was shot past like a missile with the Doppler echo making him think about the sound barrier. On the steeper parts of the trail, which was most of it, he pushed his bike, taking a good look at corners, making a mental note of anything that might disrupt him on the way down.

He noticed a couple of logs he’d have to lift the bike over no matter which direction he was going, and some rocky bits where he might take a spill, but he saw nothing that might launch him over a thousand-foot cliff. An hour and a half took him to a promontory with a view of mountain ranges heading off in granite waves for at least a hundred miles. He rested, ate a snack. The ride back to the highway took seventeen minutes. He didn’t fall once.

For the sharp turn on the highway down by the truck runoff he

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needed his brakes, unlike when he was on the 10-speed with road tires, but he was still able to travel along most of the pavement keeping his speed above forty miles a hour. There was lots of daylight left when the long hill ended and he rolled into town through the Gulch.

Turning into the business district he rode past the Cominco Arena where long ago he went to high school dances. The same thugs, plus some recent additions, were smoking out front. They were always in groups, three or four, and they glared when he passed.

Even though he knew they couldn’t catch him —they were fighters, nor runners — he still felt the fear from his early years when he’d been one of the prime targets they hunted. Back then he’dlearned to be a sprinter after the first beating and now on the bike he was twice as fast but the possibility of ambush was still around everycorner. Some of his enemies kept rocks in their pockets, polished and rounded by the river, the shape and size of hens’ eggs.

He knew the stronger ones could throw one of those rocks through a sheet of plywood.

They were serious about baseball, dreamed of becoming professional and, especially if their talent was shortstop or pitching, they could kill with these rocks. But they weren’t going to kill him in the middle of town while it was daylight. It was enough that they could do it, and he knew that they could do it, and they could see that he knew.

He continued on over the bridge and soon was among small well-kept houses where once again danger seemed far away. After a couple of turns he coasted into his mother’s driveway.

She was around back in the garden. Along with the usual

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tomatoes and corn she grew flowers. His mom had always enjoyed a lot of colour. Even her clothes were red, yellow or orange with bold patterns like the garden. She smiled when she saw him. The bike was rolled into the garage.

He made the salad while his mom boiled sausages: boil for ten minutes and finish in the frying pan for a perfect sausage. The pasta they ate was hand-made in the back of the Italian grocery in town. The sauce used tomatoes from their own garden. This was a good climate for tomatoes.

“How was your day?” his mother asked.“Good.”“Where did you go?”“I made it to the other side of Rossland. It feels good to be doing

something physical. I need to go far enough to feel tired.”“Have you thought about what you want to do in the fall? Will

you go back to university or would you rather get a job?”“There’s no career for me here based on the education I’ve got

so far. What I’m doing goes straight into research. It’s not pre-employment training.”

“It feels like all the young people are leaving. You’re right. To be successful here means being an engineer.”

“I don’t know. I’ve talked a lot with engineers and I’m sure I don’t want to be one. I could study on my own while I earn money doing some sort of labour, living on an hourly wage instead of a salary. Any job that pays better needs technical training. That’s not really what I want.”

“I wish I could help. Everyone I see in town sounds surprised you’ve stayed here. All your life you were doing so well but now it

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seems you’re stuck. You were so keen and then you just lost interest.”

“It’s hard for me to explain. I did okay. Actually I did really well. I know I could finish my degree, but it just seemed so alien away at university. I’d rather be here.”

“I like having you here.” His mother reached across to take his arm. “But I don’t want you giving up your life to look after me. I canlook after myself. I may seem old to you but, believe me, I’m not.”

Sami took a drink. They drank their home-made wine from a glass, not stemware, a small tumbler like a juice glass. They always had wine with dinner. It reminded them both of his father.

“I can probably get a scholarship. I’ve sent out some applications to other places. There are research projects where I think they want me.”

“Do they want undergraduates?”“Universities make exceptions if your marks are good enough.

The theory is that, like everyone, they’re looking for a fair bargain. If you show you’d make a difference to the project they want you.”

“What is the project?”“I’m not exactly sure.”Watching TV his mom had another glass of wine and then her

kossu at bedtime. Koskenkorva was a sweet Finnish vodka that reminded her of her own parents. It didn’t seem to affect her. If Samihad more than one drink, riding got really hard.

Five years had passed since Sami’s dad died. He was on the clock at the plant, doing a dangerous job, a furnace man. Sami worked alongside him during the school summer break back when he was going to university.

There was a story about a furnace man who was using his air

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lance to blow crusted lead off the sides of the intake spout. A fifty-ton cauldron on the rails overhead rolled past and knocked him into the three-foot wide spout, turning him instantly into water vapour and a few trace chemicals. The entire lead melt had to be reprocessed to get it back to 99.999% purity. Sometimes they went for seven nines purity but mostly it was five.

But by the time Sami worked alongside his dad the plant had gone three years without a lost-time accident, let alone a death. Sami’s father was working in the garden when he died, a heart attack, no warning. They got him right to the hospital but he still died. It was probably hereditary. That was one big reason Sami did alot of riding.

Next morning Sami got his chores done early so he could go back up the hill. His mother still hoped he’d go to grad school but she didn’t push it. When he left she was talking over the fence to Mrs. McNicol. He waved, they waved back and returned to their talking. At the end of their street he turned onto the highway and a new day began.

After the warmup climb he started the three-quarter mile hill in his lowest gear. It was early. He wanted to have enough energy in reserve to be accelerating at the top and indeed that’s how it was. After fifty minutes he was at the cemetery where his father was buried. He put fresh flowers on the grave, looked across the valley atthe densely forested hillside, and then pushed his bike along an overgrown trail up to the old miners’ cemetery.

A century ago these had been some of the richest diggings on thecontinent, mainly gold, and the memorials were ornate. Among the carved crosses were Greek statues, stags, lions, scrolls, miniature

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marble columns and a profusion of flowers, both stone and wild.Only two of the plots had fresh flowers on them. There must be a

few surviving grandchildren who tended the old graves but they’d begetting close to the end of their own lives. The stones would last longer. They’d continue to tell what had been done here. Now everything was peaceful, as had been promised.

It was a beautiful day: warm, sunny, not much wind. Sami pushed his bike higher to a dirt road that eventually connected to the highway on the other side of town.

He settled into steady riding, past the usual trailhead, staying with the highway rising up into the mountains. At a little lake with a picnic table he turned off where there was a hiking trail that led to a game trail, and then an open area where the trees thinned out so he could choose his own direction. The bike was good. He liked the way it handled.

He took his time, pedalling slowly, climbing til he was just below the tree line. He looked for hard surfaces, staying off the scree, descending so that the brush closed behind him. It was quiet here, not too many birds. He stopped to catch his breath.

He wondered how many mountain bikers actually climbed mountains. The magazine stories were mostly about high-speed descents. Climbing was slow and hard, like lifting weights a thousand times just to get warmed up. Even so biking up was faster than hiking and of course the descent cut the total time in half, except that he didn’t want to chew up the trail. Leaving the fewest possible tracks was simply respecting nature.

Going through the trees there were times he had to clamber over fallen timber, lifting the bike onto his shoulder, even though for smaller logs he recognized that his chain ring teeth could cut into the

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log and lever him over it. He wouldn’t do that. Respecting nature again. Eventually the tangles got too thick and frequent. He could see an opening up ahead. He left the bike but he still had the tool bagover his shoulder. It was just a habit. No one was around to steal anything.

An avalanche had swept through a few years back. The new growth was almost waist high. He looked around for bears. He realized he was instinctively sniffing the air. It was a primitive reflex. He was glad he still had it.

On the other side of the avalanche path he was surprised to see half a dozen flat rocks arranged as stairs. It didn’t look accidental.

He looked around. He listened. He couldn’t hear anything louderthan an insect. He looked at the sky and at his watch. He didn’t want to get too far from the bike but it was still a long time until dark.

The steps led straight into berry bushes but he pushed his way through the brambles without getting too scratched up. He could see where the grass was straighter than it should be because it was along the edge of an old path.

It was easy to see how the path went straight and then curved, blocked by an occasional sapling. It trended down, but gradually, so it was easy for him to walk fast. Game trails weren’t straight. Someone had come up here often enough to wear down a regular route but that would have been a long time ago.

It was hard to tell how long. This high up nothing grew fast. It might be a decade or it might be a century. Maybe there was an old cabin up ahead.

He was startled by a splash, not a big splash, just a fish jumping. He couldn’t hear a creek or any kind of running water. There was

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light ahead through the trees though they seemed closer together, leafier. He must be near one of the lakes.

Now the trail went away from the light. It was harder to see, down through a hollow where leaves had collected and mould grew over the mulch. There was nowhere else to walk so Sami put his feetdown carefully, keeping his weight on the back foot until he was sure his front foot felt solid ground. It was slow going, right up to the moment he felt himself plummeting straight down.

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Chapter 2

In the dark he felt his feet ricochet off an incline and go out fromunder him. His head snapped back and he heard his helmet crack against a rock. He slid more than tumbled, regaining some control, but then he bounced off something solid that hurt his left arm. The impact slowed him down. By blind luck his right hand grabbed something in the dark.

He was on the ground or on a ledge. He couldn’t tell. His left arm hurt but it still seemed to work. He felt his head. The bike helmet was mostly intact. He tried to sit up but the strap from his shoulder bag, army surplus, was snagged on something.

He pulled hard with his right hand to reassure himself that whatever he was holding would support his weight and then wriggled around until the bag strap came free.

Now he could look up, at least the direction he assumed was up. The hole above him where he should be able to see sky was gone. Maybe he’d rolled around a corner or maybe the vegetation had closed behind him after he’d fallen through. Either way it was as dark as if he was totally blind, which of course was a third possibility.

It was at times like this he wished he smoked, because then he’d

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have a match. Carefully Sami reached out his left hand. He could feel a vertical surface almost at arm’s length. His right hand stayed locked to whatever was giving him a small amount of security. He felt around the floor where he was lying and there was rubble, but noedge of a ledge or updraft breeze. He couldn’t touch anything above his head, no ceiling or overhang. He was tempted to stand up.

His eyes were starting to adjust so that the blackness began to take on the slightest tinge of grey but he still had no sense of direction beyond up and down and he couldn’t see what he was grasping. It felt rough. That was as much as he knew.

He still had the bike tools in his bag: wrenches, a spare tube, twoscrewdrivers, a jackknife. His miniature clip-on flashlight! He felt the bag fabric and the familiar cylindrical shape was still there.

Opening the strap was automatic, easy, but he hesitated. What if he’d missed a hole, a ledge, somewhere that the flashlight could roll away and be gone forever? He lay down flat on the ground and ran his fingers over the ridges, the pebbles, the twigs until he was sure the light would be safe. Only then did he reach in, take it out and switch it on.

He was in a man-made tunnel, not a natural cave. It was an old mine from the gold rush days, untouched since then from the look ofit. The roof was shored with timbers that looked sturdy but when he swung the light back to to the vertical shaft he’d fallen down he could see the old ladder was almost entirely rotted away. The uprights had created a path for the rain and melting snow. The rungs had all fallen out. He got up and touched the wood. His finger pushed right through it.

He looked the other way down the tunnel. There might still be gold here. The diggings were rich back in the day. For a couple of

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years Rossland was the biggest city in interior British Columbia. There must be something left that modern technology could extract, not that he knew anything about mining.

What he did know was that he couldn’t stay where he was. His sleeve was torn and his arm was bruised but it wasn’t cut. No bones were broken. He wasn’t really dizzy. He could walk.

The tunnel meandered, not much more than the height of a tall man with his arms outstretched. Sometimes the tunnel curved. Sometimes it turned sharply. Sami could see rusted tracks where the miners would have pushed an ore car. He didn’t see any yellow sparkles from the walls or nuggets lying on the floor.

Then it opened up into a massive stope about forty feet above Sami’s head, and deeper than his flashlight would show. The rock must be solid because there were no more timbers shoring up the walls or ceiling. The tracks made their way along the edge of a man-made cliff to the lip of a vertical shaft. There was a cage, a cable, and a lever-controlled winch. Going down was at least a two-man job.

There was enough room between the cage and the shaft opening for Sami to drop a rock. He started counting off the seconds. He got to nine before he heard the faint sound of a distant impact.

At 32 feet per second per second, velocity after nine seconds would be 288 feet per second. Taking the average over nine seconds meant the shaft was 1,296 feet deep, more or less.

Except that sound would take more than a second to travel that far, The speed of sound was 1,126 feet per second, close enough to one second travel time, so the rock actually fell for eight seconds which made the depth closer to a thousand feet — halfway down to

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the big river where Sami had started his morning ride. A lot of digging.

Definitely too far to climb down. Another odd feature was that usually mining cages started their journey above the diggings in the open air where the fumes from the pulley motor could ventilate. Here the head of the shaft was underground. Sami wondered why.

Maybe this was a Chinese mine. A century ago a lot of Chinese miners came to Canada to pan for gold. Some of them would have had the engineering skill to excavate something like this. After all, they built the railroad.

And they would have had reason to hide. The Anti-Asiatic League was active in Vancouver. Working on the railroad, handling explosives, Chinese life was cheap. But then back in China life couldbe cheap as well. There were enough intelligent ambitious men who wanted to come here, to Canada, to Gold Mountain.

Once past the descent shaft the floor of the mine became more like an industrial site and less like a mountain goat path. Sami kept walking along the narrow gauge tracks. When he came to a switch he went right. That led him to a crusher, long abandoned, with eight empty ore cars sitting on a siding.

Making his way back to the switch he tried the other way. As thetracks continued the tunnel narrowed, widened and narrowed again like a normal cave but the rock had clearly been worked by tools. Hepassed an old drifter drill driven by a steam engine. Beside it was a row of horizontal holes for blasting, the last dynamite holes before the mine was abandoned.

He felt like he’d been walking for a long time because of the bends in the tunnel and the irregular floor but really it couldn’t have been more than a few hundred feet. What he did see that stopped

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him in his tracks was a modern industrial concrete block wall. It wasas if the hand-hewn tunnel had been interrupted by a warehouse.

The concrete didn’t fit perfectly against the rough rock wall but it was continuous and solid. He turned off his flashlight. No light came in from either side, from above or below. He turned the flashlight on again and his eye caught a tiny discontinuity, an irregularity in the grout between the concrete blocks. He held the light up to it. It looked like a lens. The lens of a tiny camera.

If there was another way out the wall was blocking it. Since there was a camera this mine might not be abandoned. The original miners had gone to extra effort to keep the mine a secret, judging by the underground pulley motor. There was a risk the current users might go to extremes to protect their privacy. He took two steps back, turned and retraced his path through the tunnel back to the place where he’d fallen. There was no other way out. He was going to have to climb up.

The walls were covered in rough lichen rather than slippery moss, thanks to the altitude and dry climate. The shaft was rough-hewn so there was something to grip and niches where he could wedge himself to inch up. It was hard work but he was fit, he was young and, just before he collapsed from exhaustion, he found himself pushing through the brush that concealed the mine shaft opening.

It took a minute to grab a fallen branch thick enough to support his weight, to get his upper body across it and to pull himself completely out of the hole. He was still in a shallow depression surrounded by drifted decaying leaves, mostly fir needles, but with some brittle deciduous mulch blown from nearby.

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He rolled further from the mine shaft, onto solid ground in the open air. He was surprised to see how early it was, that the sun was still climbing toward noon. After the dark tunnel the alpine sun overwhelmed him so it took him a few seconds to realize he was staring at an aged man.

“You were in there a long time,” the man said. “I thought I was going to have to climb down and get you.” He didn’t move to help Sami. He sat, just another bump on a log. He didn’t stand or do anything threatening. He’d been waiting. He continued to wait.

Sami was exhausted. He lay where he was, taking his time to look at the old man whose white hair had no trace of grey, whose skin instead of being wrinkled was drawn tight over his bones and whose smile, long-practiced, could mean anything. Sami thought about the camera. Would that be why the old man was here? If so, how far would he go to protect the secret of the mine?

There was no pack. There was no knife on his belt. Whatever was in his pockets wasn’t heavy, though it was hard to be sure what might be under the vest. His brown cap had no logo — unusual but hardly unique.

Then the old man leaned forward, not much, but smoothly with abalance that was nowhere near as old as he looked. It was a strategic move, shifting into a better position, and it made Sami feel even more threatened. He was getting his wind back. Making sure he felt solid support underneath himself, Sami shifted his weight a bit. He got ready to move fast.

“I’ve seen you up here before,” the old man said, “on your bike. I see a few hikers on the game trails but no one else rides along them. No horses, no motorcycles, no other bicycles. Your tires look like they should chew up the ground but you manage to have a light

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touch. I guess you know how to take it easy.”Sami had been attacked a lot when he was younger. Kids threw

rocks. Once a group of them held his head against a train rail while the others looked for a rock big enough to crush it until an older kid made them stop. He wasn’t going to let anything like that happen again. He wasn’t going to wait for an attack.

“How long have you been watching me?”“I’m not sure. How long have you been coming up here?”This was going nowhere. Sami stood up. The old man stood up.

“There’s something I’d like to show you,” he said.“I don’t think so.”“It’s not like that,” the old man said.All through his teens Sami had worked to get stronger, lifted

weights, worked out on the gym equipment. In spite of that the attacks continued. Something about him annoyed the other kids. He wouldn’t back down. He learned to expect attacks. He was ready for one now.

The mine opening was behind Sami. Too many things had already happened today. The old man was in front of him, blocking the trail. In spite of the altitude the underbrush was thick. Going any direction other than straight ahead would tangle him up. It was too risky. Sami glanced right, away from where he’d abandoned his bike, stepped left into his adversary and threw a body check to get past.

The next thing he knew, he was face first on the ground. The old man hadn’t touched Sami. He simply wasn’t where he’d been.

On second thought it wasn’t true there’d been no contact. Sami’dfallen hard against a log. There was a nasty branch sticking out of it,

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an injury he’d miraculously avoided by having his fall redirected the absolute minimum distance necessary. The aged man must have saved him.

Now he was embarrassed by his suspicion. The fallen tree trunk had knocked the wind out of him so he had time to think the whole event through in detail. It would take a while to catch his breath. At least he didn’t feel like anything was broken.

The old man was watching him calmly. He didn’t look like he’d moved.

“You misunderstand me. I’m not your enemy. I simply need to explain something you saw when you were down below and I can show you more easily than I can tell you. Come on. Get up. I know you’re tougher than that.”

He didn’t reach out to help Sami to his feet. He didn’t come closer but he didn’t step back. He waited.

He didn’t have to wait long. Sami rolled away from the log, got onto his feet and straightened up. He’d been over-confident but oddly, with that realization, most of the threat went away. Instead of wanting to escape, now he was curious.

The aged man didn’t seem to realize he already had ‘Yes’ for an answer. He kept talking.

“I’d have come down to get you if I’d thought you were in trouble but I could hear you moving around. You needed a chance tolook around on your own. I know today you’ve got the time. Whenever you come up here you spend most of the day. I admire that. You’re at home here. Not many people can appreciate that. Youand I are a lot alike, or at least I can remember when I was like you, getting out on my own, going further than other people. Back then I learned some things. I’ve been watching you. I think I can save you

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some time.”He stopped and was silent again. They were both silent.“What about the camera?” said Sami.“I forgot about the camera. Is that what you thought? That we

saw you through the security camera and I was sent up to silence you? Okay. That makes more sense. No. I was watching you walking around when you suddenly vanished. Then I remembered the old entrance to that abandoned tunnel we walled off. We never come here, but when you fell I knew what must have happened.”

Sami looked at the old man’s face for a hint of what he was thinking but there was nothing there. Either the old man was good at concealing his thoughts or else he’d learned when not to have any.

“Okay,” Sami said.The old man turned away and walked off the trail, stepping from

log to rock to log, leaving no tracks. Sami followed him.They didn’t walk far. Ahead was a cliff, not too high, with

tangled brush and blown debris at the base. The aged man looked back.

“Watch where I put my feet.” He pulled a branch out of the way with his left hand. He walked straight ahead to the rock face. Then he vanished.

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Chapter 3

It was more like a movie effect, a wipe from the old black and white days. To be convincing as magic it should have been quicker but Sami sensed that wasn’t the point. He’d come this far. He went ahead.

The opening was where the rock had split with one wall moved back by the ice so that from the only practical path through the downfall the two sides were perfectly matched in colour and texture.The undergrowth itself was so entwined, forbidding and tedious that no casual or, for that matter, serious hiker would be likely to make the attempt. Around about the height of a tall man the two sheets of rock joined back together so that from above there was nothing to see. In spite of all the obscurity it was an easy entrance.

Sami followed the aged man along a gentle downslope curving through the rock. As it got darker he couldn’t help dreading a repeat of the fall he’d just had. This could still all turn out to be a bad joke. He didn’t have anything worth taking but that might not matter. Up he saw light: not from a lightbulb and not exactly daylight, but something.

Now he could see that it was a giant aquarium. There were smallfish cruising among the reeds, nibbling at whatever caught their attention. As he watched a big trout flashed down from above. One of the little fish vanished into its mouth. The trout turned and was

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gone.“It’s tempered glass,” said the aged man. “Bulletproof, and

really really heavy. It took four of us to carry it down here.”As Sami watched another trout, a bigger trout, came straight at

him. It was moving fast but, even so, it took a while to get close. By the time the predator arrived all the little fish had had time to scatter.There was nothing left for the big trout to see or do except turn and climb up out of sight.

“Do you know how oil exploration uses seismic testing?” the oldman asked.

“You set off an explosion and record what the sound waves bounce off. The echoes give you a pattern of the densities in the rock.”

“Close enough. You’ve seen miners tapping rocks with their hammers. Granite gives a sharp sound, coal gives a dull sound and there are gradients in between. When we first came down here and were tapping along the tunnel we got an odd sound from that wall you’re looking at. We did some measurements, went up top and realized that this mine continues under the lake. Of course our first thought was that being under a lake represents a considerable risk. Then one of our more creative engineers realized that it also gave us a chance for daylight. People are always more cheerful when they have daylight.”

Sami was unconvinced. “It seems like a lot of work just for decoration.”

“It also could help us if we need to detect unwanted neutrinos.”“Neutrinos?”“We’ll get to that later,” the old man said.

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Sami was still fixated on the risk. “You say ‘we’. You say ‘one of our engineers’. How many of you people are there?”

“I’m coming to that. We understood that we had a lake beyond this wall and we had to know that we could keep it out of our mine. The window would help in two ways. First, we’d have daylight. Second, we’d have an easy visual inspection of any way the lake might be changing. We don’t get a lot of rapid change up here. We have weather but generally the rock stays in place — no earthquakes, just slow weathering over the next several million years. We expect the lake to turn into a bog over a few thousand years but again that’s slower here than it would be lower down the mountain. Over the time frame that matters to us, everything should be stable. But we always keep looking for the unexpected. That’s themain thing that we do.”

“How many of you are there?”“Seventeen.”“How did you keep the water from pouring in while you were

putting the glass in place?”“Once we’d rechecked our depth measurement for the rock to

the point where we trusted it we went a third of the way in and quarried slots to anchor the glass, twice as deep on one side so it could be maneuvered into place. We drilled holes for a steel reinforcing frame. Once the glass was in place we pumped in epoxy to seal everything. After it was all cured and tested our divers cut away the rock on the water side and we had a window.”

“You make it sound easy.”“Compared to what we’re trying to do here, it was easy. But

you’re right. The job had to be planned, it took a while, it cost some money and we needed to use some very talented people. Now that

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we’re done sightseeing, let’s go meet them.”

When the entry tunnel opened up into the cavernous working area Sami saw under the lights a giant silver bundt pan, twice as tall as a man, thirty feet long, turned upside down and covered with ladders and scaffolding. There were racks of equipment with numbers, needles and dials. A woman and a man were staring at the numbers and writing them down.

As he entered half a dozen people looked in his direction; then, recognizing the aged man, they went back to their work. Some were walking, some were climbing, two were standing and writing. It was the closer of these two Sami’s guide approached.

“Esme, this is Sami. Remember I told you about him. Can you explain things while I find Janis?”

“The eccentric bicyclist? Delighted to meet you. You finally got this far. I should say, as someone with her PhD in both physics and engineering, that using a bicycle for mountain climbing is completely impractical, but we all know that’s your business and notmine.”

“Tell him what we do here. I may have the answer to our money troubles. Make your work sound earth-shattering. Maybe that’s the wrong image. Persuade Sami here he’s got a chance to make a difference. I know the rest of you feel that way. Let’s build up the team,” and the aged man was off across the room at a walk just shortof a run, vanishing seconds later like a rabbit into its burrow. The man with Esme went back to his writing.

“Sammy? Is that what Velen called you? Sammy?”

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“Yeah, Sami, spelled like the reindeer people in Finland. My dadwas Finnish. Is that old man Velen? We never had an introduction.”

“Sami. Good. I’m Esme. Yes, that’s Velen. I guess he is old for what he does. How well do you understand physics?”

“I took the high school major. Physics and chemistry, no biology. A year of university. I’m going back.”

“How far did your chemistry go? Table of the elements? Atomic shells?”

“I know the difference between an atom and an ion.”“Which is?”“An atom is stable. Magnetically neutral. An ion has a charge

forcing it into combination with another ion until eventually you get a stable molecule, a chemical, a crystal, something solid.”

“Close enough for now. What do you know about plasma physics?”

“Nothing.”“Lightning is a plasma. Fire is plasma. Neon lights are plasma.

Plasma is flowing ions. Energy.”“Like a hydroelectric dam.”“Right. We’re working here on an energy generator.”“Is that upside-down pot a boiler?”“Not exactly. It’s more like a magnetic racetrack. We think

we’ve found a way to control nuclear fusion.”Sami took another look at the big metal housing. He knew what

a nuclear reactor looked like ― a big concrete silo. Three Mile Island was still on the news at least once a week. Fear of a nuclear meltdown was now more prevalent than fear of a nuclear war. Publicopinion of nuclear physicists had gone from Einstein to Frankenstein. But this didn’t look like any nuclear reactor he’d ever

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seen.“You said fusion. No uranium 235. Hydrogen into helium.”“Very good. That must be quite the impressive high school you

went to.”“I guess. Actually I don’t guess. Trail has the big chemical plant.

This is one of the best science towns in the world. Teachers here single you out from the first time you get a good arithmetic score. It happens in the earliest grades.”

“That must make you feel important.”“ Not really. When it happens you’re too young to understand.

All you notice is that adults love you and the other kids hate you. Sometimes you feel that, if you don’t come up with something at least as big as relativity, you’ve let everybody down.”

“So you’re used to being under pressure.”“During the war my dad worked in the plant where they were

making heavy water for the hydrogen bomb because this was the only plant processing enough water to get a useable mass of deuterium. Then World War II ended and Canada got out of the big bomb business.”

“We use deuterium here: deuterium and tritium. We centrifuge out the deuterium because of course it’s heavier than the rest of the water. Tritium is made by irradiating lithium. Lithium is the lightest metal, not that much heavier than hydrogen. Since tritium is hydrogen, once it vents it heads straight for the upper atmosphere, sowe want to grab it fast. Along with a lot of other trace metals lithiumis one uncommon byproduct of refining heavier metals, which of course is the main industry locally. Unfortunately we don’t get lithium from local ore but we do get gallium which is much more

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valuable. We sell one and buy the other. The irradiating we do ourselves. There’s a lithium blanket around the hydrogen isotopes plus lots of locally-made lead for shielding. The good news is that noone wants lithium. It used to be used in weapons but now that the cold war is turning into history lithium is mainly a waste product. Itsbiggest use is for pottery. But we want it. We’ll pay for it. That’s onereason we need money.”

“Everybody needs money.”“We need more money. Much more. There’s a difference

between a household budget and an industrial budget. Here’s Velen back again.”

The aged man made his way back through the machinery, spry as if he was still in the forest. Behind him a tall woman clicked briskly along. Sami’s first thought was of a high school principal, or maybe a TV announcer. What she lacked in speed was more than replaced by her inexorable approach.

Velen stepped to Sami’s side like a salesman winding up for his pitch before the tall woman got close enough for a good look at the battered young man.

“Janis, this is Sami. Janis is the one who makes everything here possible. Sami’s the one I’ve been telling you about. He fell down anold mine shaft a few minutes ago. Not really his fault. Most of the time I’d say he’s exceptionally careful, considering where he goes and how fast he goes there. Otherwise I wouldn’t have brought him to you. We’ve already discussed this. It’s just that today’s incident has accelerated our schedule, which I think is a good thing.”

Janis finished taking a good look at Sami. Velen stopped talking.“Good. Let’s go to my office,” she said, and turned, and

instantly was moving away at full speed. The two men automatically

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followed.Considering it was in a cave the office was surprisingly

comfortable. The light was warm and reassuring, though it was bluernear the plants. Velen and Sami each took a chair. Janis sat behind her desk and rotated toward them.

“Let me start by asking if you have any questions.”“I have nothing but questions. First, why am I here?”“We think you have the talent to help advance our project and

we believe we’re in a position to make it worth your while.”“What project?”“You’re interested in science. You’ve studied it a bit. You’ve

probably read a few things about nuclear fusion, for example that ‘you have to put in more power than you can ever get out’ and ‘it’s the energy system of the future and always will be’. We disagree. We think the pure science is well-established. What we’re working on here is technology.”

“You have to put in power. Where do you get it?”“Esme can explain it all in more detail but essentially we tap into

the high tension lines running from five local hydro-electric dams down to the big smelter. The system is all privately owned. We do it at off-peak periods for relatively short intervals. We pay through a combination of cash and barter.”

“Who do you pay?”“I won’t answer that. What’s your next question?”“Is this military research?”“I suppose all forms of energy have military applications but this

isn’t a death ray or a bigger bomb or anything like that. Anyway no one needs a bigger bomb. In 1961 the Soviet Union detonated Tsar

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Bomba, a fifty megaton hydrogen bomb, over the Arctic Ocean. The shock wave went around the world three times. It’s like firing a shot that orbits the earth and hits you in the back not just once but again and again. In the almost twenty years since then no one has botheredto build a bigger bomb and there’s no reason to believe anyone ever will. Nuclear weapons today are all about manufacturing, not research. I’m sure there’s other weapons development but it’s not what we do here. If war interests you we’re no help. On the other hand if war is something you dread then you should be happy here.”

“Let me ask again. Why am I here? Why me?”“Okay, down to brass tacks. We value our privacy so we’re

careful to avoid heavy-handed security that would make it look like we have something worth stealing. You’re well-qualified to help Velen keep an eye on the forest: to notice when people come and when they leave, any changes in the topography, hunters, hikers, prospectors. You’re already known to like riding up here. You fit in. If anyone accidentally gets too close to this site you could do a little misdirection, like a magician. I don’t know the exact mechanics but Ido know Velen can make it work. He’ll show you.”

Velen looked at Sami, smiled and nodded. “Tell Sami what we can do for him.”

“Most of the people working here have spent a lot of time working in universities so we think in terms of scholarships and grants. You’ll be working on a research project for the Nishinomiya Institute in Japan. It’s near Osaka which has a good physics university. Your grant will give you an income similar to what a technician earns. Officially you’ll work here recording atmospheric waves ― not exactly weather but related.”

“Should I ask ‘why Japan?’”

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“The Institute may require you to travel. We’ll put all the paperwork together. In the highly unlikely event someone goes to the trouble to check your story the Institute does exist and our contact will confirm your importance to their research. Your high school record is outstanding. You won a math prize. That’s how theyfound you. Right now in practical day-to-day terms you’ll keep doing what you’re doing, I’ll pay you and we’ll all see what develops.”

“Since you’ve thought of everything when do I start?”“Pay starts today, orientation tomorrow down at the trailhead.

Velen will find you in your usual place at your usual time. Apart from our agreement today, nothing changes.”

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Chapter 4

Sami wasn’t sure how to explain the new job to his mother. She was good at seeing through elaborate stories. It was possible she wouldn’t be impressed to hear he’d become a glorified security guard. When he got home he locked his bike and looked at the lettuce to see whether any leaves were big enough to pick. He went inside to get a drink of water. His mother was already cooking supper.

“Were you back up the mountain again today?” she asked.“Yes,” said Sami. “Up past Rossland.”“Anything new and exciting?”Sami’d had time to think but he still wasn’t sure exactly how to

answer. When in doubt, tell the truth.“I got a job.”“A job? Up past Rossland? I thought it was all wilderness up

there.”“I met some hikers. I thought they might be surveyors but they

turned out to be measuring wave fields. You know how everything sub-atomic behaves like waves and particles at the same time?”

His mother looked out the window but he knew she was listening.

“That was a popular topic in the science news when your dad and I started going out together. Particles behave like balls on a three-dimensional pool table. Waves behave like the ocean where

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water molecules move up and down in place while the energy of the wave moves through them toward the shore until there’s turbulence. Then some of the water slides down the side of the wave onto the beach.”

“The scientists I met wanted to measure electronic waves at altitude. They knew we have hiking trails leading to several of the peaks above Rossland. They were happy to meet someone who knewthe territory. We got talking and they offered me a job.”

That night when it got dark around ten they got out his father’s old two-meter reflector telescope. His mother set it up using Jupiter to focus and then panned over to the cascade of stars in Perseus. Sami took a turn to track down the Ring Nebula.

After that his mother went back to Perseus. “I like the way the longer I look up the more stars there are,” she said.

Stars burning hydrogen throughout the universe, Sami thought. Why couldn’t we do it here? She was still looking through the telescope when he went to bed.

For the next few weeks Sami continued to ride the mountain trails. Most days he followed one of several familiar routes but whenhe discovered a chance to go somewhere new that’s what he did.

Whenever he saw a familiar face he said ‘Hi’, chatted sometimes, but typically people who preferred to spend their days walking alone in the mountains valued solitude, so a few words wereenough. If he saw someone new, someone from the outside world, usually a couple or a small group, he might stop long enough to eat an apple or a chocolate bar and hear what brought them up so high.

He patrolled a rough triangle thirty miles on a side: the transprovincial highway, another connector highway and the US

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border. In such rugged country it was hard to be sure where the border was. He probably crossed it a few times.

Exceptional mountains rose above the tree line but more than three hundred square miles were covered by endless trees the way a desert is endless sand. Landmarks included creeks cutting through the forest, rocky outcroppings where he might look at a view or at least feel the sun, and avalanche chutes. It was dry. Everyone carriedwater.

Sometimes where the forest narrowed it was worth bushwhacking through. It wasn’t hard going because bushes and shrubs didn’t get enough light to grow thick under the taller trees butit was easy to get lost. A game trail might be the only clue. Often theslopes were so steep that the base of one tree was level with the top of another.

There were some trails with drops that were almost vertical. Thattopography would decide the direction Sami had to ride, slowly climbing up switchbacks until it was time to go over the cliff. Uphill wasn’t much faster than walking but descending was always a thrill. Up here Sami was easily the fastest human.

He liked the viewpoints. He felt secure there. Even though he knew he was visible to others, being able to see was more important.It was a chance to rest his legs and let his eyes do the work.

Being outside, being high up, being in the wind felt good. If someone appeared across the valley he could wave without feeling crowded. Looking down and working out the pattern of the trails gave him a perspective that helped later when he travelled the ravines and meadows.

His vision was good but he knew that the birds saw better. Crows were his early warning system. Anything alive that was big

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enough they watched. If it died, so much the better.Crows liked to get there first. There wasn’t a lot to eat high up in

the mountains. The main forces ― wind, water and earthquakes ― all pre-dated life. The good news was that up here with less biology survival wasn’t as fierce as it was in richer environments like junglesand beaches. High up chances were good for anyone who could handle the weather.

The rewards also were mostly inorganic. One of the hikers Sami saw regularly was looking for gold. Sami came to that conclusion when off in the distance he recognized the man panning a creek. Theprospector saw him. Knowing the secret location didn’t matter, not to Sami at least. Personally Sami wasn’t that motivated by money, not as much as he respected someone who understood the countryside and covered distance doing it..

The third time they saw each other Sami rode down to say hi. The prospector’s name was Roy. He wasn’t much older than Sami, close enough that they knew each other from high school. Sami also recognized him from the dances on Friday and Saturday nights. Roy was a bass player. All the local bands were eager to recruit bass or drums.

“Sami!” said Roy. “You’ve been scarce.”“I was away,” said Sami.“I know,” said Roy. “University. No surprise there. I assume

you’re doing well. Once you got away I didn’t think you’d come back, but it’s good to see you.”

“Still working the dances?”“Every weekend, but we’re never going to be world-famous.

You got it right. It’s a job. We produce all our shows so the money’s

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okay but people at the plant still earn more. Of course the working conditions aren’t exactly the same.”

Sami looked at the pan. “Are you finding any gold?”“A little. Do you ever see colour in the creeks?”“I do notice some flashes here and there. Not a lot.”“No, it’s pretty much panned out,” said Roy. “If I didn’t enjoy

the exercise this wouldn’t be worth my time.”Over on the horizon crows drifted down toward some bushes.“It looks like they found something,” Roy said.“They don’t miss much,” said Sami.“They keep it all tidy,” Roy said. “That’s what I like about

nature. It’s clean. The crows and the beetles don’t waste anything.”“I should let you get back to work,” said Sami. “If I see any

nuggets I’ll let you know.”“Wouldn’t you keep them for yourself?”“I bet you’d get better value for them. One thing I remember

from economics is the importance of specialization. You’re serious about gold,” Sami said. “For a fun-loving guy you’ve always been serious.”

Roy looked bemused. “I never really thought about myself as fun-loving. Of course that is the rock and roll image. Between you and me it’s mostly an act. Reputation helps bring in the customers. People don’t appreciate you’ve got to be in good shape to get up there and do a show night after night.”

“If I find a good creek I’ll tell you,” Sami said.“Thanks,” said Roy. “If it really is any good I’ll pay you a

commission. I like money at least as much as the next guy, but beingfair pays better over the long haul.” He went back to panning.

Sami got back on his bike and continued along the trail. He’d

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need to look for a good creek away from the old mine. If he could find something for Roy, if Roy knew Sami was helping him, then Roy wouldn’t need to go where Sami went and that was an important part of the bigger job.

It took him most of a month to scout the territory, learning a pattern of trails where he could either cross fifty miles in a day or carefully work through a four mile by two mile grid. By the end of that time he was starting to go a little crazy from the solitude. He decided to spend a day relaxing with the scientists.

Even knowing the path, he was surprised again when he found the hole between the rocks. He was sure he was being watched, cameras and who knows what other security measures, but he’d told Velen what he was going to do. Startled people might over-react. Noone wanted that.

He stopped again at the window under the lake. Putting the glassin place was a big job. There had to be more to it than just checking water levels. Of course water was very good at absorbing radiation like gamma rays and cosmic rays. In a lab working with subatomic particles that might be reason enough, but it still didn’t explain the window. He’d have to ask.

For that matter, why was the whole installation underground? All the parts for the fusion machine had to be carried in or manufactured in place. It multiplied the difficulty of the job, even with the caverns helpfully hollowed out by the long-dead miners.

Of course it wasn’t surprising there was a lot he didn’t know. Hewasn’t apprenticing to a trade where journeymen had perfected everything over centuries. This group was trying to do something that had never been done before, and they were confident enough to

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put a big effort into the job. Smart people. Like him. Maybe smarter.He’d need to check that out. He found the door and went in.

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Chapter 5

He remembered Esme. He hoped she’d talk to him again. She was older but she had an easy way of explaining things and she listened to him, like a good teacher. He didn’t see her though. He wondered if it was her day off. He wondered what people here did on their days off. Where could they go? As he looked around for Esme, a young man in a brown lab coat noticed him, stopped what he was doing and came over to Sami. He was short, stocky and most likely Inuit.

“Hi. You’re Sami. I’m Kallik. Velen said you’d be coming. I’m supposed to show you around if you want.”

“Okay. Sure. How long do we have?”“All day if you want. Or until something goes wrong which

might be immediately or not for a couple of days. Nothing major. I look after the machines. I hear you’re from Finland, or at least that you’ve got an ancestor there who was native.”

“No. I got my name because my parents admired the Sami people. My dad was nuts for anything to do with living in the wilderness but my mom’s parents were coastal Finnish people ― probably Vikings or Russians if you go back, or Swedish. The nativeSami try to keep up their traditions, reindeer herding being the best known, but it’s getting hard. So I hear. I’ve never been there. It’s none of my business but you look like you might be from the

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Arctic.”“Quebec actually, but north of the Arctic Circle, so yes. And if

you’re wondering whether I’ll be happier when the snow comes, yes,I will. But you’re Italian. Shouldn’t you be somewhere hot?”

“Somewhere with devils and pitchforks? No, Italy has high mountains in the north. It gets cold. Romans went everywhere. We adapt.”

“We do. Have you had lunch?”“No.”“We should eat. That will give you time to tell me what you

want to see.”They walked around some ladders past the bundt pan to a door

Sami hadn’t noticed before. Inside was a modern industrial kitchen. The dining table had room for a dozen but today there was only one: a young Indian woman. She watched them come in. Kallik motionedto Sami to sit across from her.

“I know you,” she said. “You’re the security patrol. I’m Meg.”“This is Meg,” said Kallik.“You’re Sami Ianetti. I’m Megwati Moodley. I see you know

Kallik. Do I call you Sammy or Sam or Samuel?”“Meg is very shy,” said Kallik. “It comes from growing up in a

small village, fewer than a hundred thousand people. Her mother dreamed that she might have a career in Bollywood but she’s too smart. And not a very good singer. She dances though. Not as well as if she was Inuit, of course. People here think she’s very smart. I flatter her so she can get over her shyness.”

“Kallik will talk for hours. For weeks. That’s how they while away the long winter nights up where he comes from, months of endless darkness. But you’re a mountain man, almost a hermit. You

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probably don’t talk at all.”“I’m Italian. Sometimes we talk. Mostly we use our hands. What

do you do here? What does either of you do?”“There. Straight to the point,” said Meg. “No wasted words.

Kallik fixes machines. Sometimes he builds them from the engineers’ drawings. Unless you’d prefer to explain it yourself, Kal?”

“No, you’re doing fine. I don’t talk all the time. We have a cultural tradition of listening at least as much as we talk so we don’t all kill each other during those long Arctic nights. What Meg is trying to explain is how she predicts particle paths. She looks at particles zipping along at the speed of light and decides where she wants them to be. Once she knows for sure I put objects in the way to bump all the particles into the right place.”

Sami was ready to speak. He looked for an edgewise moment where the beginning of a word might fit but Meg wasn’t finished.

“Let me make it simple. If for a moment we assume a certain degree of physical finesse, here’s how the math works out. You may have heard in class that a proton combining with a proton in a plasma gives you deuterium plus a positive electron, which of coursewe call a positron, a neutrino, a gamma ray and 1.44 million electron-volts.”

“For comparison,” interjected Kallik, “exploding a dynamite molecule is thirty-five electron-volts, and most people notice a dynamite blast, but you do need more than one molecule.”

“Stop interrupting. Take the deuterium and crash it into another proton to get helium three, another gamma particle and 5.5 Mev. Helium three is unstable but two of those give you beryllium which

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quickly turns into helium four, which is just normal helium, plus another gamma particle, 2.8 Mev and two protons.

“The net result is that four hydrogen nuclei, which is the same asfour protons, gives you a helium nucleus plus several million electron volts.”

Kallik looked offended. “That’s not what we do here. That’s what happens inside the sun.”

“I’m just introducing the basic fusion principle for Sami,” Meg said.

“It’s misleading,” said Kal. “We don’t do proton-proton. It can’t be done on Earth. It’s impossible.”

Sami didn’t want Meg disgruntled. “How can you do it?” he asked.

“We depend on neutrons. Hydrogen isotopes in deuterium and tritium. Heavy water. Neutrons are unstable and instability creates opportunity,” said Meg, “That’s the key, as much as any event can be said to have a single cause, since Kal doesn’t want me to take youthrough this step by step. We’ll just jump right in.”

“It works or it doesn’t,” Kallik said.“I’m using fusion in the sun to show the magnitude of what

we’re trying to accomplish, though we use a more advanced process,” she stubbornly continued. “Magnetic compression looks like the most practical way to do it.”

“Let me ask you,” said Sami. “Is there anyone here who doesn’t understand nuclear physics?”

Meg and Kallik looked at each other. “No,” they said.“Does either of you cook?”“That would be me,” said Meg. Kallik said “We should eat.”

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Sami was back on patrol. It was another sunny day. While he atehis lunch he enjoyed the warmth rising off the rocks. There were no animals in sight but he heard a pika whistling.

What he could see was a teal anorak down by the creek about a quarter mile away. It was the right colour to be a rock but it was moving ― in avalanche country nothing attracts your attention fasterthan a moving rock ― and it was also the colour of a rock reflecting water from a glacial pool, down where any ice or snow had melted and evaporated long ago.

Rather than continuing along the creek, whoever it was started puttering around in the bushes. After a few minutes Sami slowly got his monocular out of his bicycle bag and focused in for a better look.

It didn’t look like anyone he knew: a young man, long brown hair, jeans and the anorak which through the lens turned out to be a zippered jacket with pockets. Whatever the hiker had been doing was finished. He swung his daypack onto his shoulder and shrugged it into place. He looked up and down the creek and went back down the way he’d come. He didn’t look up the hillside. Sami watched him go.

There was no reason to be impatient. There was still lunch to finish. If Sami waited maybe the pika would come out and sun itself on a rock.

He could hear the hiker going down the trail. Soon the sound became faint. Then it was gone. The pika stayed in its burrow. Sami tucked his lunch bag back into the pannier and climbed onto his bike.

As always it was an exciting descent. Even with long

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switchbacks his arms took a pounding, particularly when he had to brake. He worked hard not to skid in the corners, trying not to tear up the trail, to keep it from looking like an army of tourists marched through every day. At last he reached the creek, upstream on the main path where things were not quite so steep and the dirt was packed down.

He rode along to where he’d watched the hiker. The bent grass hadn’t had time yet to straighten so it was easy to step over the log and around the tree to a damp sunny spot where Sami found six marijuana plants.

Sami wasn’t that familiar with marijuana. He’d grown up suspicious of all drugs up to and including coffee. Marijuana wasn’t really a performance enhancer for endurance athletes. What he did know was that it was illegal and might attract attention. What he didn’t know was whether digging it up might attract even more attention. It was time for a second opinion.

This was the first time Sami’d had cause to turn on his walkie-talkie. Velen answered immediately.

“I didn’t know you knew how to use that thing,” Velen said.“I don’t like the whole world hearing me,” Sami said, “I wasn’t

sure how far I might be broadcasting.”“Quite far,” Velen said. “You can talk to planes if they know

your frequency. It works well in the mountains. It was invented here,by an engineer at Cominco, just before the war. Don’t worry though.These ones are scrambled.”

“Your voice is clear.”“When something works we keep using it,” Velen said.Sami gave his location. Velen knew the area. He said he’d be

right there. It took him less than an hour. He approached from the

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side away from the trail and stopped well back. After a good look he came over to where Sami was standing.

“How long were you watching him?”“Just today.”“He’s been coming here for a while. These plants are at least a

month old. Not recently transplanted. He’s been pruning them. Doing a good job by the look of it.”

“I haven’t seen him before.”“He wants to be inconspicuous. He wouldn’t have to come very

often. The creek takes care of watering. As long as the squirrels and rabbits don’t start nibbling he’ll be okay. Deer would be the main problem but they don’t like to come this high up. That’s probably why he was willing to walk so far.”

“What do we do?”“Nothing. If he was right on our doorstep it might be different,

but as long as he’s over here we have space. He won’t be harvesting for at least another month. Let’s see how often he visits.”

It turned out to be about once a week, always on a different day of the week. The hiker looked around more now but Sami had piled up a few rocks to create a blind. The birds knew Sami was there but there weren’t many of the smaller ones and they kept their distance. The eye-catching predatory birds soared silently high above him.

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Chapter 6

Sami’s routine included dropping into the lab every week or so, always on a different day and at a different time of day. He’d catch the morning coffee break or afternoon tea or lunch, but breakfast was always back home with his mother, supper too, though sometimes he’d be late.

At the lab he made a point of keeping quiet, answering more questions than he asked, letting people get to know him. He could see that the main machine was the thirty foot metal donut. A lot of time was spent cleaning it. So far he hadn’t seen it turned on. Finallyhe asked Esme how it worked.

She looked at the big machine for a minute, not sure how to begin. “You know that fusion happens in the sun. Fusion fuels all stars. That’s where our theory starts, but back here on earth we have some big problems. Take temperature. The surface of the sun is about five point eight thousand degrees Kelvin. That’s not fusion, that’s just hydrogen plasma. The inner core of the sun is fifteen million degrees and that’s where fusion happens, but that doesn’t mean our problem is solved once we heat deuterium to fifteen million degrees, which we can do.

“The bigger problem is that plasma density is just as important as temperature. Solar plasma is much denser due to the crushing pressure from the sun’s internal gravity, which means nuclei bounce off each other much more frequently. It has to be within the inner

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quarter of the sun for fusion to happen. The gravitational force comes from mass and only from mass and, since the total planetary masses are about one one-thousandth the mass of the sun, we’re never going to duplicate that force. The only alternative is more heat,which is equivalent to saying we’re going to speed up the molecules or, in this case, the plasma.

“The next obstacle is that even in the sun a proton on average has a fusion reaction every hundred million years. You can appreciate that to be profitable here we need to make things happen faster.

“The good news is that magnetic confinement works because thecharged particles in a plasma can’t move transverse to the magnetic field. They have to spiral. In our machine the spiral radius is less than a centimeter. That’s at an ion temperature of ten thousand electron-volts which is the same as ten million degrees Celsius. That’s good confinement.

“Our original plan came from knowing we could get a lot of extra heat from alpha particles. Remember that an alpha particle is simply a helium nucleus, with a positive charge which means it’s affected by our magnetic field. We want to start with at least twenty million degrees Celsius, so every little bit helps. For the plasma current we need three million amps. That’s why it’s important to be close to hydroelectric dams.

“We start with ohmic heating. That’s simply the resistance of thecurrent through the plasma to get us above ten million degrees. We tried radio waves in harmony with the plasma frequency which increased particle speed which is exactly the same as more heat. The problem was that instability increased in proportion to the heat

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increase. The good news is that each problem gave us a better idea of the kind of machine we have to build.

“We’re using a relatively small machine, a donut rather than a hula hoop. This is our tokamak. It’s a Russian word. Velen speaks Russian. Maybe he can tell you what it means.

“There’s no need for straight-line acceleration. You’re probably thinking that the plasma will move to the outside because the magnetic field is weaker there but we have two ways to correct that: first, the cross-section is a D rather than an O so we can spread the wires further apart on the inside to even out the electromagnetic field; and second, we use a timed direct current pulse. We started outwith alternating current but we find direct current gives us more control.”

“You’ve built a racetrack,” said Sami, “a three-dimensional racetrack for your plasma particles.”

“You’re interrupting,” said Esme, “but yes. Higher current gives magnetic structural stress on the walls of the containment vessel so we end up with a large apple and a neat cylindrical core cut out of the center ― the D cross-section.

“I’m finished. That’s the basic overview. Are you with me so far?”

“Sure. No. I mean yes. Your description would be clear to anyone, even a mathematician. Except you said the plasma gets unstable when you add heat, and you need to add heat because you can’t add gravity. How hot does everything need to get?”

“For a self-sustaining reaction we’d like to see a hundred milliondegrees Celsius.”

“Won’t that melt anything that’s ever existed?”“Anything the plasma touches, yes. We just have to be careful

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that the plasma doesn’t touch anything.”“Careful?”“Very careful.”“And you have a way of doing this.”“We’ve come a long way toward developing a system that works

mechanically. Kal will explain.”Sami still had questions but he could see Esme was impatient to

get back to work. It was time to go get a coffee. That’s where he found Meg, in the lunchroom.

“Esme’s been describing your machine to me,” he said. “She said to understand the details I should ask Kal. There’s no need. She explained it all. Perfectly straightforward. You must know a lot about it yourself.”

Meg looked at him over the top of her glasses. “You’re being sarcastic. Of course it’s difficult. It’s like rocket science. You develop the theory, you build your machines, for a long while things blow up and then you start having successes. That’s exactly why it’s worth doing.”

“Will this blow up?”“We think we’re past that stage. Give Kal a chance to explain.

Really. Once we buy the pieces to put this together the way it shouldbe built, we’ll have something safer than the average domestic car. Much safer. Talk to Kal.”

Kal wasn’t anywhere in sight. Sami would have to wait for another day. That was just as well. He still had questions for Meg.

“For today,” said Sami, “let me try to absorb what I’ve just heard. I did get some of it. I can imagine what magnetic confinementmight be, two identical magnetic poles pushing each other away. I

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get the general idea.”“I should add two details to help you ask better questions,” said

Meg. “Tokamak is abbreviated from the Russian description. Do youspeak Russian?”

“No,” said Sami.“I don’t either. Get Velen to tell you what it means. I probably

should have learned the language back when I was in university but Ididn’t. Russians do good science. My point is that the tokamak isn’t the only fusion reactor and I’m not sure it’s the best. I still like the stellarator.”

“That sounds like something that makes stars,” Sami said.Meg smiled. “That’s the impression you’re supposed to get: star

birth. If we ignore the poetry versus national pride contest, the big difference is the plasma path. The stellarator plasma path runs along a Moebius strip.”

“The piece of paper with only one side,” said Sami.“That’s right,” said Meg. “It’s more efficient, like a line in the

middle of the road allowing for oncoming traffic. To me intuitively the stellarator can be self-correcting where in the tokamak the alpha particles are always being turned away from where they want to go. But stellarator math is a lot harder and theoretically they both shouldwork so we’re building a tokamak.”

“You make it sound like putting together a kit car out in the garage.”

Meg smiled. “You’re concerned that imagining the possibility is not the same as completing the job.”

“I will admit that if this is a fantasy world it’s extremely detailed.”

“We can get this done. If it was fantasy it wouldn’t be physics.

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Talk to Kallik.”“I’ll talk to Kallik.”But that didn’t happen for a while. In such a small space Sami

assumed he’d be tripping over Kallik every five minutes but weeks went by without contact.

He saw Meg and Esme and Velen, and even Janis. He got to know Lila and Erwin and Paul, and Ottavio and Elizabeth and Mary Matheson. He wasn’t used to seeing so many women in a physics lab, particularly when they were wearing the white coats of scientistsinstead of the brown coats of technicians. He asked Meg why that was.

“For a boy to be good at science is hard,” she said. “Brainy kids get bullied. You probably know that firsthand. But for girls it’s harder. It’s not just the other kids. It’s the whole world attacking them, bullying them, making them feel like freaks. Janis saw an opportunity. She put a series of science puzzles in girls’ magazines, similar to the way World War II code breakers were recruited to crack the German submarine wireless encryption. Girls who won moved up to harder subjects, the best were given scholarships and a few came here. It wasn’t just girls. A few boyfriends and brothers got fascinated by the questions. Some of those who scored well also ended up here. Janis doesn’t care about gender. If a boy’s good at math she wants him. Getting the job done is what she cares about.”

“Okay,” said Sami, “I can understand that. But how can you all stand to live here, never going outside, month after month? Prospectors get cabin fever. They shoot each other.”

“I’d argue that looking for gold isn’t as complex or intense as understanding and recreating the secrets of the sun. Sure, some of us

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understand that this can be immensely profitable, more so than the oil industry ever was. But I’d say that what all of us have in commonis a fascination with how to make this actually work. What are the important details? How do you react if there’s a fundamental flaw in your main strategy? How can you even know what’s happening without letting other people test your ideas? In this case that means precision construction. People here get angry and they get frustrated but I don’t think they get bored.”

Sami was not totally persuaded. “But what about their families? Don’t your workers miss them? Don’t they have any outside friends?”

As he spoke Sami realized he didn’t have outside friends himself. A lot of people said hi to him, a few seemed genuinely glad to see him but in his own mind he was alone. Even his mother was moving away into her own life. He’d left everybody behind without really going anywhere.

“Families. Friends.” Meg couldn’t help smiling. “I guess our best friends would be here. I can’t imagine how we could have more in common with anyone else in the world compared to the people I’m working with right now.

“Family too. We have married couples. Erwin and Elizabeth were married long before they came here. Physics professors. Didn’tfeel like they were accomplishing anything.

“You have to appreciate that in the fifties and sixties being a physicist was like being a rock star. Then the seventies came and everyone settled into arguing the more arcane permutations of string theory. No one was getting anything done. I’m told the two of them jumped at the chance to come here. And of course Janis and Velen are married.”

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“Janis is married to that old man?”“She’s not that young herself but, yes, they are married and he is

a bit older than she is. It’s not that uncommon for a couple to be different ages. Usually the man is older. Not always.”

“Velen is married to Janis?”“Don’t act so surprised. You make him sound totally decrepit.

The two of you work together all the time. Are you suggesting he’s getting feeble?”

“No, he’s stronger than I am.”“I doubt that. But if he can make you think he is, then his skills

are still good enough. I don’t know why I even bothered to ask. The day that we can’t rely on Velen is the day we should all quit.”

“You sound like you’ve known them for a long time.”“I’ve been close with Janis since I came here. She’s always been

the practical one with big ideas and, believe me, those two attitudes don’t usually go together. She was interested in science because it got things done. The thrill of discovering something so unexpected itmight as well be magic wasn’t as important to her. I don’t think that’s changed.”

“But she’s the boss.”“She provides the money. That’s not quite the same thing.

Without us the money wouldn’t be spent effectively. We could makereally expensive mistakes but we don’t, and that makes her financingmuch more effective. We all need each other.”

Sami looked around the room. “So out of all the people here there are only two married couples.”

“Plus a few office romances. Scientists are a passionate bunch. Why all this interest in love and domesticity? Has one of my

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colleagues been flirting with you?”“No. No one.”“I find that hard to believe. Is there some poor unfortunate

you’ve been dreaming about?”“I should get back to work.”“We both should. Sorry about giving you a hard time. Think of

this as an ocean voyage or a space ship. We’ve been thrown togetherbut it’s not forever ― just until we create something that will changethe world, assuming we’re not interrupted, so yes. Get back to work.”

Out the door went Sami, back through the tunnel and out into theopen air. He had a lot to think about and today he felt like going higher. Taking his bike from its hiding place he swung onto the saddle and started to climb.

It was important to keep his weight forward, otherwise the front wheel lifted off the ground. On the other hand if he leaned too far forward the rear wheel would skid. It was a balancing act.

Downhill it was enough to hit roots, rocks and fallen branches at a ninety-degree angle but uphill he didn’t have the speed to carry his body over an obstacle so he had to pull up the handlebars at the rightmoment each time. It was a full body workout.

Gradually the trees got smaller. Eventually they were gone. Samigot onto a goat track climbing toward a viewpoint. That was where he found Kallik.

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Chapter 7

Sami was surprised. Kallik wasn’t. “I heard you coming. I think I walk faster than you go on that bicycle.”

“Uphill maybe. Downhill I think I win.”“You’re right. I guess we all have to plan for the round trip.

What brings you up here?”“My job, travelling around, keeping an eye on things. How about

yourself?” “Sometimes I just have to get away. I mean, I like everybody and the work’s a dream come true. Every day I learn something new.I don’t even mind all the time we spend inside. When I was growing up we always stayed inside whenever it got really cold. It’s just that sometimes I get tired of everything being so close. I need to be able to look a long way away.”

“It must take you most of an hour to get up here.”“I need to get above the trees. I don’t know what it is about trees.

They just don’t seem natural.”“I enjoy having a view myself. Particularly after we’ve earned

it.”“See over there to the east? Two mountain ranges side by side?

That’s where the Kootenay River cuts down between the mountains. That’s the main reason we work here.”

“For the dams.”

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“Power from the dams. As long as there’s a little bit of water there that the smelter doesn’t need, water that we can drop down through the turbines, we can power the tokamak.”

“How do you turn the water on?”“I’m told Velen found a night operator who’s willing to accept

an informal payment. We get the power when we need it, the water builds back up, and nothing is wasted. Plus it’s money for the technician.”

“Maybe he could get one of the day crews to help out.”“Velen thought of that but Janis said the fewer who know, the

better, when there’s any chance of one of them saying the wrong thing accidentally. We don’t want to be greedy. Actually we do wantto be greedy, but not to the point where we risk losing everything.”

“Like you say, once the dam’s been built the power potential is there whether it’s used or not.”

“We take what we can afford, what we can find. We’re not big enough to be a predator money-wise. Around here the smelter is the king of the beasts. We’ve got ideas. They’ve got products. They’ve got industrial power and an international sales force. To stick with the African metaphor, our economic lion pulls down a pretty big wildebeest. We wait while the smelter takes as much as it wants and then we look to see if there’s anything left over for us, anything we need. We’re the vultures.”

“From what everybody’s been telling me there’s lots left.”“Some lions hunt elephants. They don’t notice us.”“So our role is to fly around watching and when something’s not

being used we swoop down and see how it tastes.”“That’s where you and Velen fit in. To work effectively the rest

of us all have to be together, so Velen found the old mine. Velen

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made the deals for power, for raw materials, for equipment. He thinks big, or at least when Janis thinks big he knows how to make itreal.”

Sami looked around for any big birds. There was a hawk below them rising up on the thermals but nothing resembling a condor or even an eagle. It was slim pickings for natural scavengers. The human kind had this territory for themselves.

By now Sami recognized the landscape patterns. It was like making moves on a vast game board. He knew that trying to look random wouldn’t work. It was enough to look like he was wanderingaround places he enjoyed, which was true. Other hikers were comingand going. Every so often supplies got packed up to the forest fire lookout. Sami visited there himself. He knew they’d seen him, the amount of time he’d been riding the trails. It would be suspicious notto say hi.

He didn’t stop in at the lab every day, or even every week. Of allhis activities that was where it was most important not to establish a pattern. One day when he did visit, Paul was the only other person inthe lunchroom.

Sami was a little nervous around Paul. Paul was an older man, older than everyone except Velen, and he had an air of authority. Along with Esme he seemed to be the most experienced scientist, always distracted with weighty problems. Sami was surprised when Paul looked up at him and gestured for him to come over and chat.

“So. Any good ideas to help us get this done faster?” asked Paul.“No, sir,” said Sami.“At least you’re from around here. That must help with what you

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do know how to do. You have to hide us from the world. Sometimes you must wonder why we’re so secretive.”

“I imagine it makes it hard to haul in all the big equipment,” saidSami.

“We bring it in parts or build it in place but it is hard. After all, ifwe’re so good at this, why don’t we all get jobs with a big company or the government? Not that there’s much difference between the two of them.”

“It’s an extraordinary amount of work to hide this,” said Sami. “The advantage must be big to make it worthwhile.”

“Freedom to work in our own way is vital. I chose to vanish into the wilderness and build a productive life with people who accept me. As for what we need and what we’re going to do, big hardly begins to describe it,” said Paul. “You know it takes megawatts of electricity for us to run a test. You ride everywhere around here. Where are the wires?”

“There are no wires,” said Sami.“Maybe one day we’ll be able to transmit high voltage without

wires, but not today. Yet there’s not even a telephone line up here, let alone high tension transmission cables. If we ran the current we need at ground level you’d be seeing electrocuted deer everywhere. Do you know what a stope is?”

“It’s a horizontal tunnel branching off the down shaft. It’s where the miners dig out the ore.”

“Do you know how deep the down shaft is in this mine?”“About a thousand feet.”“Very good! How do you know that?“I dropped a rock.”“Resourceful. Maybe there’s a reason why Velen puts such faith

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in you. Since you know so much already you probably know what’s a thousand feet below us.”

“Warfield. The chemical plant in Warfield.”“The highly electrified chemical plant in Warfield. When we

need electricity we need megawatts but we don’t need them very often. The old miners already had a stope halfway over to Warfield, and at the right level. All we had to do was drill horizontally until wewere under the main transformer complex there. We built a switching shed that blended in and then we made the necessary connections.”

“And the company just let you do it?”“No. Not the company, not all of it anyway. But let me finish.

The installation is surrounded by a chain link fence with dramatic signs showing trespassers being electrocuted. People who don’t needto be there stay out.”

“What if the workers helping you get caught? What about managers and inspectors?”

“Clever of you to notice that. High voltage electricians aren’t theonly local workers who need to know we exist. We need isotopes. We need rare minerals. Sometimes we need to machine a complicated piece of equipment. Even if the tradespeople are willingto do what they’re told, we still have to have at least one manager authorizing the work. Why would he do it? Money? Blackmail? No. Less dramatic but far more powerful, the power of an idea. Nothing is more powerful than an idea whose time has come. A book.”

“A religious book?”“I wouldn’t really call it religious, more like a philosophy. A

philosophical novel. I suppose you think of yourself as a smart

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person. The rest of us here certainly think of ourselves that way. I might argue that intelligent people are the most powerful force holding up the modern world. Start with that premise.

“It’s about a man named John Galt who discovered a new sourceof energy. Sound familiar? He believed that the man who discovers new knowledge is the permanent benefactor of mankind. He also refused to work for the government. He said the only purpose of government is to protect us from violence.

“Bureaucracy would certainly slow us down. In the book I’m talking about, regulations and restrictions have gone so far that the leaders and creators all go on strike and retreat to a hidden community where they can finally get things done, things that change the world which meanwhile is collapsing without them.

“We found some managers willing to believe that’s the kind of people we are. I assume they’ll believe in us as long as it’s not too risky for them.”

“What is this book? Can I read it?”“Maybe later. I really shouldn’t be talking to you but I don’t

want you worrying and wondering how everything fits together. See what Janis says. Or Esme. They know what’s going on.”

It sounded like Paul was through. Sami picked up his pack to get back outside to work.

“I overheard Velen say he’s teaching you to fight,” said Paul.“I didn’t know he talked about what we do,” said Sami.“It’s hard to believe that little old guy would know anything

about that,” said Paul. “The fighting I mean, not the teaching.” He went back to his paperwork. Sami left.

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Chapter 8

Sami was starting to get a good idea of the activity in his territory, the popular areas. Every couple of weeks he’d take a day toride into the remote corners. Where the trails were busier he kept riding a grid, not formally geometric, but a pattern without any big holes in it. Once or twice he asked himself why he was so being reliable, so punctual, so precise. Part of it was that he wanted to make a good impression on everyone, to show that he was doing a good job. Somehow he believed that Velen saw everything he did, but how could he know that?

The two of them were having lunch on the edge of a small meadow near the end of a mountain ridge. The view was spectacular.As usual Velen had appeared, without any planning, at the right timeat the right spot. Sami asked him how he did it.

Velen was pleased to be asked. “It’s certainly not physical. You’re faster on your bike. I walk. You’re young. I’m old. You’re stronger.”

“You threw me around pretty easily. You seem strong enough to me.”

“I’m glad that you think so and you’re right that I try to stay fit but, believe me, you’re stronger. The advantage I do have comes mainly from training and experience, which only matters because of

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the kind of training. What I was going to need to do I planned years in advance but it wasn’t mainly physical. I knew I had to learn to think like I was the other person.”

“What’s hard about that? You just read, talk and keep your eyes open.”

“What’s hard is the speed, knowing what the other person’s going to do before he knows he’s going to do it, with enough accuracy to stay just clear of catastrophe. People have a public self and a hidden self. As long as I keep things simple I can ignore everything else. Being effective is mainly what you don’t do.”

“So you read my mind by ignoring things.”“Let me go back a step. The first time you saw me you thought I

was a threat and you attacked me.”“You’re an old man and you threw me around like I was a child.

I didn’t even see what happened.”“You have to learn how to do that yourself. The next person you

face really might be a threat. You can go a long way on charm, not that you have as much of that as we let you think, but eventually someone will call your bluff. That’s what you did to me. I admired you for it. Not the way you went tumbling into the bushes, but the fact that you had the nerve to try.”

“So you’re going to teach me how to be a better wrestler. Okay.”“Not wrestling exactly. Well, I guess it is. Fast wrestling. Here.

I’m going to hold this stick loosely between my hands. You put yourhand above it. I’ll slowly move my hands apart. When the stick falls,you catch it.”

On the fifth try Sami caught the stick, counting the two times nervous anticipation made him swat it out of Velen’s hand before it started to drop. Sami had good reflexes, better than average. Velen

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was pleased.He said they could skip the meditation warm-up. They already

spent enough meditative time staring out across the valleys, watching the trees grow. They did spend a week practicing stretches.Sami was surprised how superficial his intuition about his body had been, how many specifics he’d overlooked. He learned how to fall which, as a mountain biker, he had already practiced extensively. It was when they started sparring that things really got new.

Sami knew enough about judo to be ready for throws but he wasn’t expecting finishing blows to the throat, the eyes; kicks to the groin and knee; bone-breaking arm locks and strangleholds.

“It’s ju-jitsu,” said Velen. “It’s the older version of judo, before it was turned into a sport. It’s what the police use in Russia and England. And Japan, of course.”

“I thought the police used guns,” said Sami.“I’ll show you how to take away a gun but it’s dangerous and

you have to get close. Don’t try it unless you absolutely have to. Always use the twist where you break the trigger finger. Practice that.”

“What happens when the guy with the weapon has also been practicing?”

“There’s one advantage you need to have. Be decisive, the moment you’re sure what’s happening. Action beats reaction. Use surprise. You have a fifth of a second, maybe a tenth against someone who’s trained and fast. Speed. Make it count. Be aggressive. You’re being attacked. Deliver that finishing blow. Makethe attacker pay.”

“What if I never need to know this?”

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“That would be good. That’s what we all want. But what if you do? You don’t want to spend that moment thinking about what you should have learned. But there’s good news. I’m surprised how well you dodge. That usually comes after years of training.”

“I’ve already had years of training ducking thrown rocks, dodging punches and bats, twisting away before I got grabbed, knowing what it felt like when I wasn’t fast enough. That’s why I’m here now. I learned.”

“I’m betting that all happened years ago,” Velen said. “No one learns as fast and as thoroughly as a small child.”

“How often have you had to fight?” Sami asked“Just often enough to convince me that knowing how to do it is

important. Important enough to make me put up with the annoyance of teaching you.”

So it went: stretching, practicing falls, learning new moves. quietly watching the trees grow taller as the days lengthened, pausedand again grew shorter. It became one of the things Sami did, part ofhis routine to pass the time when there were no wanderers to watch.

He spent time working out with Kallik to improve his flexibility.They hung a ball from a tree and practiced jumping to kick it, moving it higher each time they succeeded. Kallik said it was supposed to be a seal bone but he was willing to work with whateverwas available.

They started with the one foot kick. Sami found it almost impossible at first to land on his kicking foot but Kal said that was the whole point of the competition. After much practice he got good enough to move up to the two foot kick. It was like doing mid-air sit-ups. Sami fell down a lot. Kal laughed.

Meg went higher than either of them for the one foot kick. She

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said it was from ballet lessons. After that she was the referee.They also did the kneeling jump and the knuckle hop which was

like a broad jump from a pushup. During the meal break Kallik showed Sami how to use an ulu to chop salad. Kal was big on propernutrition.

The strength event was the head pull. Kallik had a belt that fittedaround their necks while they knelt on hands and knees. At Meg’s signal they both pulled back with their head, trying to drag the other across the center line.

Sami had an advantage because his neck was already strong from the way his head bounced while he was riding, plus he was bigger than Kallik. Kallik was better at pulling hard, releasing and then shifting the pressure left or right to slip the belt off Sami’s head which, according to the rules, meant that Sami lost.

Mostly though Sami won the head pull. He found comfort in being able to win something. The big benefit overall was that his middle body strength increased, stomach and back. It also gave him a chance to burn off energy with someone his own age.

He looked forward to the time the three of them were together but mostly he practiced on his own. Over time he got better, but not enough to catch up to Velen.

“Why is it I still can’t beat you? I’m stronger. I’m bigger. I’m younger.”

“You do too many unnecessary things. I don’t think as much as you do. Your body broadcasts what you’re planning.”

“You’re saying no matter how hard I try you can always read me.”

“I guess it’s like looking at the stars at night. The longer you

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stare the more stars you see. The older you get, the more detail there is.”

“You’re telling me I should get old faster.”“All I’m saying is that I notice things. Speaking of which, it’s

time for you to make a new friend. You realize our marijuana groweris good at what he does. In a few weeks he’ll be harvesting. You know the route he takes. Every so often when he’s coming up you’ll be going down and a few days later vice versa. See what he’s like. Get acquainted. If I like what I hear maybe we’ll all get to know each other better. One more thing. When you’re with him don’t look around, wondering where I am. It looks suspicious. Trust me. I’ll tellyou when I know something.”

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Chapter 9

It was starting to cool off later in the day. With the first snow, bike season would turn into ski season. Sami had passed the marijuana farmer three times now, twice with just a nod and hello, the third time with a look of recognition and a smile. Getting a smile was good. Sami let two weeks pass before the next accidental encounter. He hoped anticipation might lead to more curiosity.

For the fourth meeting he made sure he was coming downhill. People hiking up a mountainside were more likely to welcome an excuse to stop, plus he knew that hurtling down on his bike, bouncing off rocks, had to look interesting to another young adventurer. They’d stop and talk. He wouldn’t even need to crash into a tree.

As it turned out the manipulation was totally unnecessary. The marijuana farmer, whose name was Peter, was sociable to the point of being gregarious, happy to have a friend in the middle of the remote forest. He admired the bike, asked how hard it would be to make one for himself. They talked bicycles for a while. Afterwards each continued on his way.

From then on they talked each time they met. Peter had asked around and found an old balloon-tired bike no one was using. He asked if Sami would look at it. Certainly. It was in a friend’s shed near Peter’s land up in the Slocan Valley.

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That was a seven-hour round trip for Sami on the 10-speed, almost all of it highway miles. Peter was waiting in a small pickup truck at the turnoff when Sami arrived five minutes late.

Along the dirt road to Peter’s barn he pedalled his bike behind the truck. There, leaning against a stack of hay bales, was an old blue Norco with the two flat balloon tires. The goats in the barn looked at Sami suspiciously.

“You inspired me,” Peter said. “I finally got over to the neighbours to get it. I want to ride up the mountains like you do. Canyou show me how to fix it up?”

The old bike had a rusty chain but the frame was good and the wheels were solid. Wide wheels with balloon tires, ready to be patched and pumped. Sami spun them, looking at the brake clearance. Amazingly the rims didn’t even need to be trued. Sami figured replacing the brakes and the cogset would make a big difference. Plus a smaller chain ring.

“For my own mountain bike I looked around and found some parts from California. It takes a couple of weeks in the mail. Maybe a month.”

Peter scratched one of the goats between the horns. The others went back to eating. “I’ve got all winter. Is it expensive?”

“Not really. Customs duty doubles the cost but I think it’s still pretty cheap. Cheaper than getting a machine shop to make the parts for you.”

“Let’s go inside. You can write down what I need.”Sami left his road bike in the barn and they walked over to

Peter’s house. The house was a double-wide mobile home raised high enough to allow for storage and a work room downstairs. Beside the workshop was the furnace along with enough firewood to

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get through the winter. Next to the house was a three-vehicle garage with a car and a small tractor.

Diana, Peter’s partner, offered coffee and cookies. They sat inside around a long handmade table with chairs on one side and a couch on the other. Diana indicated the couch so Sami sat there looking out at the river.

“Is that an eagle?” said Sami.“We have a pair of them up the river,” said Peter. “They eat the

fish. We have to be careful when the goats give birth. An eagle is bigenough to carry off one of the kids.”

Diana took out a big bag of dried herbs. “Would you like a toke?” she asked.

“I don’t think so, said Sami. “I’ve got a long ride back. Besides Idon’t smoke.”

“It’s completely different. Have you ever gotten high before?”“Never.”“This is just the leaves. Buds are way stronger. Leaves are really

mild.”“I have to get home before dark.”“With leaf the buzz is over in half an hour, maybe an hour. This

is our homegrown. I’m not forcing you but you might like it.”“This is a smooth high,” Peter said. “Mostly we smoke bud but if

you haven’t tried it before this is enough to give you an idea. It’s a new way of looking at the world.”

He crumbled the leaves and rolled them into a thin cigarette. He lit it for Diana who puffed a couple of times to get the ember glowing, did a deep inhale and handed it back to Peter who sucked the smoke in quickly and handed it to Sami.

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Sami took a tentative puff, then breathed in a little more, then handed it to Diana. He felt okay. “Maybe two, to give it a chance,” she said.

When it came around to him again he took a deeper breath and held it. He handed the cigarette to Diana. The he slowly rolled sideways onto the couch and realized he could not move.

He was perfectly aware of his surroundings. Diana and Peter were looking at him. Diana knocked the ember off the joint and put it gently onto the ashtray. Calmly she stood up, stepped around to where he was lying and peeled back his half-closed eyelid.

“He’s not going into a coma,” she said.“You don’t need to worry,” said Peter. “Diana is a nurse.” Then

he relit the joint. He and Diana smoked it til it was gone. Then they waited patiently, looking out at the eagles, until finally Sami sat up.

“I guess I’m not very good at this,” said Sami.“We try not to think of it as a competition,” said Peter.Diana chimed in. “It takes getting used to. That ride had to tire

you out. That’s a long ride.”“I do more than that almost every day.”“He does,” said Peter. “This guy rides up mountains.”“Do you feel any different?” asked Diana. “Does everything still

look the same?”“Pretty much. Nothing’s blurry. My vision is fine. I don’t feel

sick.”“How do colours look?”“Colours are fine. I don’t think there’s a problem there.”“In one way that’s disappointing. Often people start to see the

world in a different way. Do you feel like anything’s changed?”“No, I feel good. I feel like I’m coming back to normal.”

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“Different people react in different ways,” said Peter. “If you’d asked me an hour ago I would have bet you’d say ‘Wow, this is great!’ I’ve had that reaction so many times from so many different people. This is good pot, if I do say so myself. But you’re reacting like a scientist.”

“Maybe he is a scientist,” said Diana.“You’re exactly right,” said Sami. “At least that’s what I was

educated to be.”“But you always act so natural,” said Peter.“What’s unnatural about science?” said Sami and Diana

together. Peter took the hint and shut up.“How do you think I got my nursing diploma?” Diana said to

Peter. “I know science. I know chemistry. I need to know chemistry.” She looked at Sami. “I’m sorry you had a bad reaction. We didn’t mean to force you into something you didn’t want to do.”

“No. Thank you. I’m glad I tried it. I’m fine. It mostly felt okay. You’ve both been really nice to me. If you knew me better you’d know nobody forces me into anything.”

“Should I roll another?” said Peter.Simultaneously again “Not for me” from Sami and “Not right

now” from Diana and then they all laughed.

Peter still wasn’t aware that Sami knew about his alpine grow operation and Sami kept quiet about it, but one day when they ran into each other on the trail near the plants, Peter decided to trust Sami enough to show off his little plantation and talked at length about how growing at altitude developed extra intoxicating powers, giving an added meaning to the word “high”. Sami agreed Peter

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might be right but that he still didn’t need to find out for himself.Peter was getting ready to harvest. Soon they’d be going their

separate ways. Velen’s fear that the marijuana might attract unwanted attention had been unfounded.

Now Janis called Velen and Sami in for a talk, not a common occurrence. Sami expected to spend more time inside once the weather got bad but he intended to enjoy being outdoors as long as he could.

Sami was a downhill skier but maybe it was time to take up cross-country. Velen was happy to have a second set of eyes and ears scouting the winter territory. Sami imagined he might learn a lotworking in the lab but he had no illusion he’d have the same degree of independence there.

Nonetheless they found the door and made their way back through the tunnels past the fish and all the machinery. It looked likethere’d been progress but Sami didn’t understand the system well enough to know exactly how. He didn’t see Esme.

Now he did, over on the other side of the reactor, but she didn’t see him. She was staring at a display, oblivious as usual to everything else in the workplace. Then she vanished as Velen and Sami turned the corner to the office; and there was Janis, with a big smile, coming toward them.

“I’ve heard all the news,” she said, “and I’m particularly happy because there’s almost no news at all. When you’re active all day every day and nothing happens ― well, at least nothing that need concern us ― that’s good. Of course I’m sure your days are full. You’re looking well. Very well. Fit. That’s good because I think we have an opportunity here. Come in. Let’s sit down.”

Velen sat. Sami sat. Janis glanced at a paper on her desk, then

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concentrated her gaze on them. “I think it’s time to talk more about money,” she said.

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Chapter 10

“The work we’re doing here would normally be done by governments or by corporations so large they might as well be governments. They’ve chosen not to do it. It would be funded by taxes or tax breaks. We can’t do that. We’re in the situation of a small retailer, or even a street merchant. We have to rely on what an arm’s-length customer will be eager to buy and, in the long run, that’s exactly what affordable energy is.

“But we need something that we can sell right now to keep us going, a lucrative sideline that won’t distract from the main job. Thatgrower you’ve been watching isn’t unique, far from it. Velen thinks that the local marijuana economy has reached the point where exportis viable. Would you have any moral objections to becoming a pot dealer? A wholesaler, specifically.”

Sami was momentarily stunned. Moral objections? No. Logical objections, yes. Practical objections, yes, numerous practical objections. Not only did Sami have no interest in drugs, he had no experience marketing or selling anything.

“Why marijuana?” was his first question. “If you’re raising money why not sell more valuable drugs like cocaine or heroin? You’re scientists. You could even manufacture synthetic drugs.”

Janis answered. “If you’re making a moral point we’ve heard thesame argument ad nauseum since the Sixties. The war on drugs is a war on poor people so let’s just not go there. If you’re talking about

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marketing a more valuable commodity my answer is we’re not marketers. We’re scroungers. We’re looking for something no one else wants, or at least something that’s undervalued. We’re opportunists.”

Velen took up the argument. “We’ve got an agricultural product that’s hard to market because it’s illegal. At the same time we’re doing research that requires far-flung materials and contacts. Put those situations together and you have the opportunity.”

“We can’t grow poppies here,” said Janis. “We can’t grow coca leaves. But from what Velen tells me our neighbours are growing a lot of marijuana, more than the local market can absorb. Growers keep the buds and throw away the leaves. That’s wasteful. From the beginning our philosophy has been that if we use what other people don’t want we’ll always have more than enough.”

Now it was Velen who spoke. “I appreciate what an odd situation this is. You probably think of us as strangers but to us you seem like an old friend. I know a lot about you. You were one of the school brains. You were bullied, more than bullied. When you walked out the classroom door at the end of the day you were huntedlike an animal. You don’t like danger but you know a lot about it.”

“How do you know about that? Aren’t you old to be hanging around schools?”

“I didn’t need to go anywhere near the school. I heard about it intown. I overhear things. You know I’m a good listener. Once I knew what to look for the incidents started to add up.”

It was all something Sami would rather forget, walking through town, looking two blocks ahead for enemies, listening hard whenever he approached a corner. “It was always the little guys

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attacking with the big ones backing them up. I don’t think I was everin a fight with just one person. I wasn’t ever in a fight when I wasn’t alone. I’m a good runner. You know that.”

Velen looked at Sami. “Let me tell you my last name ― Velikhov. Does that mean anything to you?”

“Not really. Is it Russian?”“Doukhobour actually. Have you ever been to Krestova?”“No, but I know about it. Sons of Freedom. They blow up power

lines and schools. Their religion is that everything in the world has to be spirit. Anything that isn’t spiritual is evil.”

“Yes. Pacifist bombers. Mostly they attack other Doukhobours. Anyone with earthly possessions is a heretic. They burn farms at night. They leave bombs in cars. We orthodox Doukhobours learned to be alert. The Sons of Freedom hated education so I valued it. I don’t like to be pushed around. I think you and I are similar that way. We’ve lived in different eras but some things remain the same.”

“What does all this have to do with drug dealing?”“Krestova is in the Slocan Valley. Today hippies live in the

Slocan Valley. People your age. People like Peter and Diana. Hippies like to smoke pot. A lot of them grow it.”

“Is this really a good match for what everyone is doing here? Even if we ignore ethical issues around drug dealing, is this good business?”

“Let me complicate things even further. What this lab needs is someone who can sustain and protect a group of scientists. Conventionally that means someone with the personality of a predator. You on the contrary are used to being treated as prey. WhatI think we need is a scavenger, which is really how I see myself;

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someone observant who knows how to avoid conflicts, someone who can get what’s needed without being noticed, someone who sees the value in what’s being wasted.

“Scavenging is the original way to survive, and its importance only increases in complex societies. It reduces waste, forestalls unnecessary competition and prevents disease.

“In spite of all that, scavengers have never received the wary respect accorded terrifying predators or the affection so often associated with adorable rapidly-reproducing prey. Scavengers hoveron the edges of life’s great conflicts, or pass through without becoming part of the drama. What they get seems unearned, though it’s more like actual work than battle ever can be. Perhaps the element of luck ― searching for a meal and finding something extra ― seems unfair. Rewards are usually meagre but occasionally life-altering.

“Once diligent scavengers become wealthy they can hire fightersand workers to protect what they own. Because they see opportunity where others see garbage, they’re more efficient. They’re observant, creative and despised; they learn to be self-reliant, to be private, to be attacked because their survival depends on death and decay; and their continued existence is a slap in the false face of immortality.

“Once a person moves beyond his own ‘Reduce, Re-use, Recycle’ to reducing the waste of an entire society by re-using whatever is neglected, by taking possession of whatever worn-out opportunities have been cast aside, the only limit to success is how sharp his vision is. That’s why the famous animal scavengers are far-sighted or have a keen sense of smell. A scavenger has to be aware of more than its own species. At its heart scavenging is the direct

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opposite of a social activity.“Waste, simply another word for opportunity, happens in

government and it happens in industry. Business on a large scale, especially when unregulated, is different in its nature from personal work or household tasks. There’s no comparison. Corporate interaction inevitably evolves into something very like a bureaucracy. We expect both systems to be wasteful enough to provide more than enough resources for everything we need to do here.”

Velen sat back, slightly embarrassed by his speech, pretending not to notice Sami and Janis staring at him. It was Janis who finally broke the silence.

“Our Velen can get a bit evangelical, and always in an unorthodox cause. He’s right though. We do get a lot done and it’s because we find what we need. You’ve seen what’s happening in ourlab. We know you believe in it because, not to put too fine a point onit, we’ve been spying on you. What you see is possible because for along time the two of us have been keeping the pressures of the worldoff those theoreticians and technicians in there. With you as a full part of our team everything speeds up by fifty per cent. If you’re willing you can do this.”

Sami wasn’t so sure asking Peter to sell pot was simple even if Janis and Velen might think so. At best it felt awkward. He could seehow easily it might look like a threat, a setup, entrapment.

“Assuming I can persuade him to sell to me, how much do we want to buy?”

“Ideally we’d start with a ton if he could deliver that for a hundred thousand dollars,” said Velen. “We’ve got that money on hand and we shouldn’t need it for six months. I mean a metric tonne,

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so that’s a thousand kilos that should wholesale for seven hundred each in the right market. Without being greedy we could net a little over half a million.”

Janis chimed in. “It’s enough for us to try something new. We want to be able to measure quantum spin because there’s a new theory spin can be controlled and we’re working with plasma. In particular we need to control the dynamic fine structure of the plasma. We go step by step and see what goes wrong. We redo the math and try again, a bit bigger each time.

“How do the waves change, the waves in the plasma, all the different kinds of waves? Is it possible to boost the heat by finding the right harmonic, mainly for the low-frequency waves? Rememberthat we need to get up to a hundred million degrees. Every little bit helps.”

“I thought you weren’t a physicist.”“I just repeat what I’m told.”“And you’re saying I can get us this money if I do what you tell

me to do.”It was Velen’s turn again. “It’s not that simple but, essentially,

yes. I’ve spent a lot of time around farmers and I know they like a reliable market. You’re offering a significant amount of money.”

“You saw those plants growing by the stream. At most you’d getone kilogram if you weighed every leaf. You want a thousand kilograms.”

“Well, first of all, I’d be surprised if that was his only garden or even his biggest but, yes, you’re right. My guess is we’ll be buying from forty or fifty people.”

“You want fifty people to think I’m a drug dealer.”

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“I want fifty growers to think you have connections to a drug dealer. I’ll handle the money. I’ll do the transportation. It’s just that Ithink ― Janis and I think ― that things will go better if you can do the introductions.”

Janis smiled. “We’re too old. We’re part of the establishment. Our motives are suspect.”

Velen leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “I said a tonne ideally. We don’t expect this to happen overnight. Talk to yourfriends. They might like the idea.”

Sami had a lot to think about as he pedalled home. Generally he was uncomfortable and this was business where people were known to carry guns. Secondly visiting Peter and Diana he hadn’t been the life of the party. He might never see them again.

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Chapter 11

The next day riding to the lab he took the long way around. He found that tiring himself out helped him to think, focussed his mind. The road bike got him into a steady routine, mile after mile, but it meant that to get to the lab he had to walk the last bit along the trail.

Compared to mountain biking walking was contemplative. Sami could look around. He didn’t have to concentrate on every rock and root. He went up the round-about trail, passing where Peter had grown his plants, now nicely restored with no sign that it had ever been despoiled by agriculture.

Once he reached the lab he looked around for Megwati. Instead he saw Esme. She was examining the tokamak intently. She smiled when she noticed him so Sami was encouraged to walk over and see what he might learn.

“I hear you were cross-examined by Paul,” she said.“Paul barely knows who I am,” said Sami. “I only talked to him

once.”“It’s really Velen he doesn’t like,” said Esme. “You’re a

convenient substitute. I don’t think Paul would confront Velen directly.”

“Why would Paul even care?”“Velen isn’t a scientist. All Paul respects is physics. Nothing else

matters. Nothing else is necessary. That’s probably why he never got

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much done until now. He’s proud of his time in the American atomicprogram where he learned all the techniques but he’s not comfortable with original ideas, working from first principles. The right way is always the way someone else did it. He does know all the history of nuclear research. He idolizes Enrico Fermi.”

“How did he wind up here? He’s older than most of the rest of you.”

“I told Janis about him. Years ago Paul and I worked together. He was at loose ends but I knew he had a lot of experience includingindirect involvement with the Manhattan Project. Here he gets frustrated by the delays. I imagine he thinks being older should give him more say.”

“Velen’s older.”“Velen isn’t a trained physicist. It has to annoy Paul that Janis

even thinks Velen is necessary. Velen and you.”Sami thought about that. “Paul was telling me about a book

where smart people rule the world, or at least they withdraw from the world and rule their own little part of it.”

“I know that book. I’ve read it. It doesn’t directly claim that the leaders are the smartest people. It says every success in the world is created by the ones who make the most money, though readers get the impression that’s pretty much the same thing as intelligence. I don’t agree with a lot of what the author says, but I do agree that individuals get more done when bureaucrats and boards of directors aren’t ordering them around, people who don’t know how to do whatthe hands-on people are doing. Also it turns out to be an attitude that resonates with exactly those young people who happen naturally to be better at science. Romanticizing withdrawal from society makes being secluded like this an adventure rather than an ordeal. At least

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Atlas Shrugged has more technology than the elves and wizards in that other teen cult bestseller.”

“I don’t know either of those books.”“Is it all textbooks? Don’t you ever escape into fantasy?”“I read classics. The test of time,” Sami said. “I feel safer with

ideas that have influenced a lot of people.”“One day these two books will be classics,” said Esme.

“Anyway that’s why we’re underground. We value freedom over convenience.”

As they talked Meg came up behind Sami. He jumped when she spoke.

“We may be free but we still do what we’re told,” said Meg, “and if it was all about the money like that book says, Velen and Janis would control everything.”

“Books are never a perfect model for real life,” said Esme. “You can’t follow them exactly. Slavishly. That would be as bad as religion.”

Meg and Sami thought it best not to reply. Esme went back to studying the tokamak.

“I was going to have a cup of tea,” said Meg. Sami followed her into the lunchroom where he told her what he’d heard about waves, how to predict the plasma behaviour.

“Yes, absolutely, everything has to be measured. The faster we know what we’re seeing, the more precise our corrections can be.

“Hydromagnetic waves, Alfvén waves, vibrate like a violin string. Mass and tension are like density and magnetic field. What makes it easier is that ions and electrons vibrate in almost the same way, in spite of their mass being so different.

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“Where plasma differs from water is that the particle in water moves vertically rather than horizontally. You can see how that accelerates everything.

“Remember Leonardo da Vinci’s drawings of waves? Plasmas are the same, only faster and much hotter, which of course gives youinstabilities. Our main job is to control the instabilities. You don’t want plasma to wiggle.”

By the time Sami got back to his bicycle he was both persuaded and perplexed. The long downhill made him concentrate on carving the curves, keeping his eyes on what was happening in front of him, giving his unconscious mind a chance to work. After that he had eleven miles of mostly flat riding and now, getting into a rhythm with his body on automatic pilot, Sami sorted out what was going to happen.

It was mid-afternoon when he got to Peter’s property. He’d called ahead from the pay phone at the gas station. Diana answered, sounded happy to hear from him and that gave Sami a little more confidence.

Peter was feeding the goats. He waved. Sami dismounted, leanedthe bike against the fence and lost himself for a moment in the comparative simplicity of animal husbandry.

Peter finished and latched the gate to the pen.“Come on in,” he said. “Diana was just going to make tea.” They all sat down in the living room. It was a surprise visit.

Diana and Peter looked at Sami expectantly.“This is going to sound strange but I have a business question,”

he said.

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“Strange can be good,” said Diana. Peter sat a little straighter. Sami plowed ahead.

“I realize it’s odd after my collapse the last time I visited, but I would like to buy some of your marijuana.”

Peter perked up. “Far out. I love making a conversion, plus you seem like a low-profile kind of guy. How much did you want to spend?”

“Would it be okay if I bought quite a lot?”“Maybe. We try to be self-sufficient here but we need money the

same as anyone else. You and I haven’t known each other long enough for anyone to connect the two of us together. I like you. I trust my instincts which means I trust you. I assume you’re reselling but you live far enough away so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“I wouldn’t be selling anywhere near here.”“Exactly how much do you want to buy?”“What could I get for a hundred thousand dollars?”Peter sat back. Diana got up to make more tea. Sami watched.

He could see Peter was startled but also that he was thinking.“Are you just looking for bud or will you take leaf? People

around here have a lot of leaf they don’t really want. For that kind ofmoney you could get a ton of leaf. I mean that literally, and in this neighbourhood that much weight might be available.”

“What’s the difference between leaf and bud?”“If you don’t know, then leaf will be fine. You don’t get the

same kind of buzz but, for what it is, locally-grown leaf is really good. People in the community take pride in what they grow. Unlessit’s a special occasion I usually smoke leaf.”

“What did we smoke the other day? When I fell over?”

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“That was leaf,” said Diana.“Okay. You said a thousand kilograms? I can come back in a

week. If everything’s ready I’ll give you a hundred thousand dollars.”

“You are a quick person! That’s too fast. I need to talk to people.They can’t be rushed. It would worry them and that’s not what you want. Give me two weeks and ride your bike here. Don’t bring a truck. I realize you’re not going to carry a ton away in your panniers.We’ll find another place to make the transfer but I really believe we have a good chance to make this work. It’s an intriguing offer.”

Diana interjected. “Now that business is done ― am I right in thinking business is done? ― would you like a home-made browniewith your tea? Don’t be nervous. It’s a regular chocolate brownie. The only intoxicant is the chocolate. Very good. Made right here thismorning. Did you know that chocolate used to be illegal in England?In London you could sneak into a speakeasy for a mug of hot chocolate.”

“I’d love a brownie. I think I did read that about England. The tea is very good.”

“Excellent. This is turning into a beautiful friendship. Let’s go tothe window and see what the birds are up to.”

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Chapter 12

Two weeks later Peter was ready. The next day Velen and Sami drove a pickup truck out to Peter’s property. After the introductions Peter directed them north. Soon they turned off onto a dirt road.

“This is the road to Krestova,” Velen said.“Yes,” said Peter, “but we’re not going that far. Do you know

about Krestova?”“I was born there,” Velen said.“So you’re one of the Sons of Freedom.”“No. My mother was. She left to marry my father but she was

with her parents when I was born. It’s complicated.”“Sorry,” said Peter, “none of my business.”“That’s okay. With any luck I’ll be part of your business for

quite a while and you deserve to know a little about me. If we run into one of my acquaintances it looks better if you’re not surprised. If I act a bit nervous you understand now what my reason might be.”

“Did you grow up Doukhobour?”“Yes.”“What was it like?”“Mystical. Everyone is a mystic. A lot like Zen. If something

needs to be said then it doesn’t matter. If it’s written down that’s even worse. Doukhobours are Christians who don’t believe in the Bible.”

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“Far out.”“You can say that again. Better yet, don’t.”They drove on, bumping along in the ruts. The trees weren’t

dense but they stretched away without a clearing or a stream. Trees crowded the road, branches sometimes brushing the sides of the truck. Thankfully it wasn’t long until they stopped at an old shed with a new padlock.

“I think they used this to store fuel back when the area was first logged,” said Peter. “I found it when I was biking through the valley.I’ve been watching for tracks but so far mine are the only ones.”

“Good,” said Velen. “Let’s have a look.”Peter undid the padlock and pushed open the door. In front of

them were piles of bulging garbage bags and, just inside the door, anold bathroom scale. The smell was distinctive.

“That scent must be why I see all the deer tracks outside,” said Velen. “You can see where they’ve tried chewing on the logs.”

“I never noticed,” said Peter.“Deer love gardens.”“I do know that,” said Peter, “but these walls are strong and the

bags haven’t been here that long. Each bag weighs at least twenty-five pounds and there are eighty-eight of them. That should give youyour weight in metric. You can check them on the scale.”

Velen stepped onto the scale to verify it showed his true weight and mentally added twenty-five. He picked a bag out of the middle, stepped on the scale, looked at the indicator and nodded. He bent down to look more closely at the display. “It says ‘This scale not to be used for commerce.’”

“You’re kidding, right?”Velen smiled and nodded. “That means I’m happy. Okay, Sami

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and I will load the truck. Take one bag, step on the scale to check theweight and then stack the bags in the back of the truck. We should be done in half an hour.”

And they were. Velen handed over a blue backpack so that whilethey worked Peter had time to count the cash inside. He had enough time to double-check his total.

When they were all finished Peter took his bike from a corner of the shed.

“I thought we should leave separately. You drove me up here to get my bike. I have to say it made me nervous, bringing everything here, and that was a few bags at a time.”

“It’s good to be nervous. Nervous makes you careful. Don’t forget to be nervous about carrying all that money.”

“I feel safer on a bike. If I need to I can go off-road in a hurry.”“I feel the same way,” said Sami. “When I’m on my bike I feel

like I’m in control.”“I don’t think I’ll ever really understand young people,” said

Velen, “but as long as things keep working out like this I’m not complaining.”

He shook Peter’s hand, as did Sami, and the two of them bumped off down the road, Sami looking back at the tarp to be sure it was securely tied down.

When they reached pavement Velen turned left, opposite their arrival direction.

“Aren’t we going the wrong way?” asked Sami.“We’re going to my brother’s farm,” said Velen.“Aren’t you afraid he’ll see what we’ve got in the truck?”“He won’t be home,” said Velen. “I talked to him. He doesn’t

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like city people, no matter how small or local the city. He gets nervous around Trailiens.”

After a few miles they turned off down a long driveway to a well-kept farmhouse. The barn door was open and Velen drove inside.

The door wasn’t visible from the road so Velen left it open whilehe compressed the marijuana into rectangular bales. Each bale was vacuum-sealed in heavy plastic and stored underground in the back of the root cellar. The truck, the baler and the floor of the barn were hosed down.

It was a long drive home so Sami mentioned to Velen that Paul recommended Atlas Shrugged. The vehement response surprised him.

“I don’t know how anyone with a brain in his head can take that book seriously, let alone set out to relive it. I understand her hostilityto Communism but the answer isn’t Castro-length speeches about refinements to railroads. It’s like she wants to bring back the big oil trusts from a hundred years ago.”

Sami was taken aback. “I don’t know any of that. I haven’t read the book. All I was told is that it’s about a group of people who withdraw from the world to work together on inventions.”

“They don’t exactly work together. They sell services back and forth. In their libertarian fantasy the ultimate evil is providing something for free. The pivotal invention in the book is an improved railway track, not exactly a cutting-edge technology. The idea of avoiding waste in a more efficient world doesn’t even come up.”

“So why are we all hiding?”“Janis says scientists need to work without any distractions. We

use tritium, not a lot, but we do get it from nuclear reactors. It can

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also be used in traditional atomic bombs so that might attract unwanted attention.”

“Are we hiding from the government or from the other energy companies?”

“Mainly we’re hiding from ourselves, the idea that we might relax while we do this, that if we just show up nine to five sooner or later success will come. This project isn’t guaranteed, and there’s no prize for coming second. This is a short intense all-out effort and if we can’t get it done in a couple of years then we probably can’t get itdone in a lifetime.”

Sami decided to change the subject. “Meg said you can tell me what tokamak means. She said it’s Russian.”

“It’s an acronym like USSR. Toroidal'naya kamera s magnitnymi katushkami. It means a toroidal chamber, a hollow doughnut, with magnetic coils like the winding on an electric motor.”

“Thank you,” said Sami. “That’s an accurate description.” He looked out the window at the passing landscape.

“That really is an ignorant book,” Velen said.After Velen dropped Sami off at his mother’s house Sami

realized once again he had no idea where Velen lived, unless the lab was his only home. On the other hand, he knew more about Velen now than he had that morning. For one thing, he hadn’t known Doukhobours were mystics.

He did know that quantum physicists were mystics, some of them at least. He’d read about Berkeley’s Fundamental Fysiks Group who were trying to use quantum uncertainty to send messagesfaster than light. It had to do with not measuring the spin of one of a

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matched pair of electrons until the message was sent. The message could be “up” or “down”. Whichever way one electron spun the other would instantly be opposite, no matter how far apart they’d been moved. He thought he’d seen it in the Whole Earth Catalogue.

Sufis, whirling dervishes, were mystics. Saint Augustine was a mystic, as was Saint Theresa. Wahhabis in modern Saudi Arabia were influential within Islam thanks to the oil money. Rather than seeking direct contact with the deity their religious centre was the Koran, with the same absolute faith mystics had in union with God; and yet, because the depth of belief was so similar, Wahhabis had a violent hatred for Sufis. In Christianity Pentecostals got together to resolve the paradox of mystical Biblical literacy. When mystics felt betrayed they were the most dangerous of all religious fighters. NowSami could add Doukhobours to that list.

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Chapter 13

Enough snow had fallen on the mountains that Sami used snowshoes now where he used to cycle. There were other tracks there, often enough to pack down a trail. People liked to get out in the snow, get some exercise, enjoy the view. He kept an eye out for places where he could step away from the trail without being too obvious. Near the lab he brushed out his tracks with a spruce bough. With any luck blowing snow would make it all look natural.

Inside the old mine there was no snow but it was almost as quiet as outside. Although Sami could hear distant conversations from the lab he didn’t pass anybody in the tunnels.

He decided to explore. After all he was supposed to be security. Instead of taking his direct route through the lab to the lunch room he turned into an unfamiliar tunnel on the right. Soon he was walking past a series of doors, spaced and numbered like a motel. This had to be the sleeping quarters. Just like a big motel there were stairs at the end. He walked down to see a second row of doors.

There were just the two levels, eighteen units, which was about right for the people he knew were working. He didn’t see shared showers at the end so it was civilized enough for everyone to have a bathroom.

On the lower level at the end there was a door, unnumbered, without a lock. It opened when Sami tried the knob. It was a janitor’s

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closet with a vacuum, mops, brooms and cleaning supplies. Sami wondered which of the physicists and engineers was the janitor, or ifthey took turns.

At the top the back wall of the closet wasn’t quite snug to the ceiling. The rest of the carpentry he’d seen was very carefully done.

He pulled the mops out of the way and pushed his way past the hanging brushes, dustpans and spray bottles to discover that the backwall was another door. and this one did have a lock.

Sami had conflicting feelings. He felt like he was intruding but also like he’d found something that could be important. He wanted to know more before he told Velen. He put everything back and left the door like he’d found it.

He retraced his steps, counting them this time, reorienting his mental image of the route with each turn. He worried that if he ran into someone a conversation might interrupt his concentration but hegot back outside without being interrupted..

Not worrying about his tracks he walked around to the forgotten hole where he’d fallen through the leaves that long-ago morning. Enough time had passed for nature to set the trap again but he found a stick and probed for the opening.

It didn’t take long to feel emptiness but what surprised Sami washow frightening the memory was: the fall, the climb back. Here he was thinking about going through it all again; well, hopefully not thefall, but the climb had been bad enough.

The smart thing would be to use a climbing rope. By now Sami was experienced enough to understand that recognizing the smart thing wasn’t enough. He’d have to take the time to actually do it.

A week passed before he managed to get back with two sixty meter climbing ropes from the sporting goods store: one to get down

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into the cave and back up again, and the other to try to get down the elevator shaft.

This time getting in was far less painful than his original unplanned descent. Moving along the tunnels he subtracted steps now, moving back toward that door in the janitor’s closet.

When he reached the elevator things got trickier. The motor wasn’t likely to start after most of a century. Over by the motor therewas a lever where he could winch the elevator down but he couldn’t do that and be inside at the same time. And the cage was at the top ofits travel so he couldn’t get underneath with his rope.

He knelt down to see if there was anywhere he could lever it up a bit. At the top there were a few inches of play where the cable heldthe cage but even if he did manage to wriggle under the cage floor into the shaft the whole assembly could still slip, come down and cutthe rope. Or maybe while he was trying to wedge himself through it would come down and cut him in half. Either way the reward didn’t justify the risk.

Sami abandoned the elevator and headed down the tracks. This time he’d brought a bigger flashlight. With extra light the pattern of the mine made more sense. When he came to the camera in the wall he knew one of the TV screens in Janis’s office was going to go from black to bright. If she was in her office she’d know he was in the tunnel but ultimately he’d be reporting whatever he found to Velen so that wasn’t a problem.

Past the camera the excavation got tighter. Sami guessed the vein was starting to play out. The pick and shovel work was rougher.The tunnel was sloping down now, steep enough that any ore must have been dragged out by hand. Even so it continued for forty steps

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to end at a hole in the floor.That was where the gold vein broke through into the next lower

stope. It wasn’t a big drop. Whoever dug the tunnel originally was energetic enough to hack out makeshift stairs in the granite. The bygone miner hadn’t worried about timber shoring. The floors and walls were as solid as, well, granite.

Through it all Sami still counted his steps. He’d needed to be down a level and now he was. Back and forth he’d gone, adding and subtracting. Now according to the scrap of paper in his pocket he had to walk back along this lower stope two hundred and seventy steps. The stope had been widened out so he was able to walk straight toward where he estimated the door to be.

At the outer limit of his flashlight beam an odd contraption took shape. He could see a wok underneath a big metal ball and an upsidedown wok above it. If it was for cooking why was it so complicated, and why was it in the middle of nowhere?

He walked closer. Now his light reflected off a lattice of steel rods, too shiny for abandoned Chinese mining equipment. Instead of being bowls the woks turned out to be solid metal. The center piece was a sheared sphere as if the top and bottom had been scythed. Now Sami could see that bringing the top and bottom together against the middle would create a complete sphere.

He moved his flashlight around to see what else there was. Apartfrom some tin cans on the floor there was nothing but the walls and ceiling of the mine. The door was a lot further away than he’d thought it would be. It took him a while to find it. He couldn’t see whether it was locked from this side as well. As he walked over to check the door opened.

The silhouette in the doorway froze, seeing Sami’s flashlight

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approached with Sami invisible behind it. The a switch clicked, lights came on above the apparatus and Sami recognized Paul.

It was hard to say who was more surprised, Sami or Paul. Probably Paul because Sami recovered first, though he waited politely for the older man to speak.

“What are you doing here?” Paul said.“Janis wants me to keep an eye on things,” Sami said. He

gambled Janis’s name would carry the most weight in this situation.“Janis,” said Paul. “Well, I guess there’s not much Janis doesn’t

know. Do you know what you’re standing beside?”“No,” said Sami.“Has anyone mentioned tickling the dragon’s tail?”“No one. Dragons don’t exist except in Spenser’s ancient

England, and German operas. And in the Chinese New Year’s parade.”

“Very droll. You’ve heard about critical mass. How about fast and slow neutrons? Do you know how to start a nuclear reaction and,if you’re going to survive, do you know how to stop it?”

Paul walked over to the metal framework and tapped the top disk. Now it looked like a flying saucer.

“Look at how this works,” Paul said. “Look carefully.”Sami could see the rods above and below were hinged to move

toward each other.“It looks like two cymbals coming together against a bowling

ball sheared off top and bottom,” said Sami.“Colourful,” said Paul, “but basically correct. These are three

pieces of enriched uranium, about fifty pounds altogether, enough to create a critical mass when they meet. Until that happens we’re

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simply looking at three slightly radioactive pieces of metal. Half-life seven hundred million years.”

“How did you get fifty pounds of uranium?” Sami said.“Fifty pounds of enriched uranium,” Paul said. “This mechanism

is simple but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. Ore is mostly U238 and wewant U235 so that’s a weight difference of about one and a quarter per cent.

“Before I came here I worked as an industrial physicist. To get this much metal the refinery needed hundreds of tons of uranium ore. Not the refinery here. Back east. When we got the ingots we hadto turn them into a gas, uranium hexafluoride. That was spun in centrifuges so that the heavier U238 went to the outside and the lighter U235 compound stayed in the middle. To get any meaningfulconcentration we had to repeat that process hundreds of times. And that was just the beginning. Our industrial effort to create this little bit of enriched uranium is staggering.”

Paul glared at Sami. Sami decided to keep quiet. Paul continued.“‘Why is this here?’ you might well ask. You’ve heard of the

SALT disarmament treaty. Strategic arms limitation talks? The USAand the USSR?”

“I thought that was all political posturing,” Sami said. “Nothing really happened.”

“No, it did happen. It most definitely happened. Back then I was working at the Hanford reactor down the river from here, below the Grand Coulee dam. That’s where we made nuclear warheads. Suddenly we had nowhere to put them.”

“You’re telling me,” Sami said, “you’re recycling a left-over nuclear warhead.”

“You’re so ignorant I don’t know where to begin,” Paul said.

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“This isn’t a warhead. This is nothing like a warhead. This is a research apparatus.”

Paul walked over and turned a dial. Sami heard the motor click on. The uranium in the top and bottom woks closed in simultaneously on the center ball, slowly. Once Sami saw how it could work Paul moved the pieces back.

“Shouldn’t there be a carbon rod you can slide in to slow down the reaction like they use in the nuclear plants?” Sami said.

“You don’t appreciate how pure the carbon in those rods has to be. You can’t just take a chunk of coal and carve it into the right shape.” Paul was getting tense again.

“If I start asking where to get nuclear power plant components I immediately attract exactly the kind of attention we don’t need. Janisgets away with a lot here but if I try to find carbon rods and enricheduranium on the open market we won’t be ignored. I was in the right place to get this one piece of equipment. That’s not going to happen twice.”

Paul switched the motor off and stepped back to admire his personal piece of history.

“When the Russians discovered spontaneous fission of uranium in 1940 I was already a working physicist. You don’t appreciate howrecent this all is. First the Russians were our allies, then they were our enemies and now we’re making political contracts that have nothing to do with science. I’m not making a bomb here. I’m studying the best known way to generate extreme heat because heat is energy and energy is crucial to start fusion.”

“So it won’t blow up?” said Sami.“I built nuclear warheads. Hands-on experience is what’s

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important. I know when things are going to blow up.”For a moment Sami thought Paul was going to hit him. Looking

as impressed as he could, Sami turned toward the sleeping dragon. Paul followed his glance. They gazed together at the machine. Once Paul had time to calm down he continued.

“The first Lady Godiva we built overheated. We thought that was the end — of our research, I mean — so while we had the materials we built a second one before the bureaucrats could stop us.As it turned out the plant did get authorization to build other Lady Godivas, more complicated ones, which received a lot of use. They were even loaned to industry whenever manufacturing needed a newtheory. In time our replacement was mostly forgotten.

“We recognized Hanford was shutting down. No one else had any use for this. My colleagues knew I was moving to a new job where we’d be working on fusion. This machine had to be disposed of and that’s what the records show. They asked me how it would beput away securely once it was no longer needed. I promised I’d bury it at the bottom of an abandoned mine. I’ve done exactly what I said.After all that work, wasting this would be a crime. Politicians have no clue. I can show you how it works.”

“You don’t need to show me,” Sami said. “You tell me it works. I believe you.”

“Never believe what you don’t understand,” said Paul. “But you’re probably right. Let me at least explain how you prove that it works. See that red light? It’s off right now. Luminescing p-terphenyl in toluene works as a liquid scintillator. That light will flash each time it detects a gamma ray. You can judge the progress of the reaction by the speed of the flashes.”

“I’ll remember that,” Sami said.

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“Young people don’t seem so interested in science these days,” said Paul. “I think they’re distracted by drugs. Magazines and movies are all full of talk about drugs. You probably get offered marijuana. You’re young.”

“I’m too active,” said Sami. “It would slow my reflexes.”“Good,” said Paul. “I hate drugs.”“I’ll leave you to your work,” Sami said. He went through the

open door back up to the lab.

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Chapter 14

Meg was at the torus, helping Kallik to clean it. They smiled when they saw him.

“We thought you were gone for the winter,” Kallik said. “We thought you didn’t like the cold.”

“Velen had a job for me. He said it would help with what you’re doing, but I’m still not exactly sure what that is.”

Meg put down her polishing cloth. “Tell me what you think we’re doing.”

“You accelerate heavy hydrogen plasma and compress it until it heats up to the point where it starts to generate more energy than youput in.”

“You’re absolutely right,” said Meg, “all summed up in a single short sentence. The problem we have ― I should say problems because one seems to lead to another ― is in the details. Right now we’re polishing the tiles so impurities won’t disrupt the plasma path.Afterwards we blow the track clean with helium.

“You know how a big wave breaks at the crest? That’s what happens when magnetic force on the plasma becomes non-linear andwe get thermalization, which is good as long as we can contain it, except it’s non-linear, so we can’t. Logically a clean path should keep the cycle going longer.”

“A clean machine,” said Kallik.“Is what you’re doing expensive?” asked Sami.

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“Not the cleaning,” said Kallik, “but we think rebuilding the machine will give us better control.”

“Do you understand incoherence?” asked Meg.“Not being understandable is the usual definition of

incoherence,” said Sami.Meg looked baffled briefly. “I always assumed arts courses have

some value but they were so boring! Okay, I get it. No, I’m talking about physical incoherence. Waves.

“Coherence is where the phases of waves remain constant over time. Plasmas are incoherent.

“In a stellarator for example the magnetic fields are external. They surround the torus. They don’t flow through the plasma, which reduces the risk of instabilities. Our tokamak on the other hand has apoloidal field produced by the current flowing in the plasma, an intermittent current. The central limb of the transformer core is the primary winding. The torus of the plasma itself is the secondary winding. Do you see now?”

Paul was tracing the wiring of the instrument controls. He’d scowled at Sami’s coherence joke but now he stopped working to listen. “You’re fussing over details. We need a new idea. A big idea,” said Paul.

“We can get this to work,” said Meg. “We’re close.”Paul acted as if he hadn’t heard. “Compression has to be many

times more powerful. We’re ignoring the best energy source.”“We could use lasers,” said Meg. “Focus their power on the fuel

source. A three-wave interaction is unstable, particularly if one of them has negative wave energy which of course is true for a combined plasma-electron beam medium; so all three waves would

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grow explosively to extraordinarily high values in a finite time.”“The right lasers don’t exist yet. They might never exist,” said

Paul, “and we don’t have time to wait for them. Nuclear fission is a well-established technology. Right now with deuterium-tritium we can get about one watt per cubic centimeter.”

“It’s good to look at other possibilities,” said Kallik.Paul looked disgusted and went back to his instrument controls.Kal turned to Sami. “”At first we tried a pinch system but it was

unstable and then the reverse field pinch, which is a torus instead of a straight cylinder, was too weak, even with the magnetic field reversed. That’s when we built this.

“The major toroidal radius is eight meters and the minor radius is three meters. At the major radius the magnetic field is around 6T. The plasma current is 25-30 mega-amps.”

“What does ‘6T’ mean?”“T means Tesla. Teslas used to be called Webers per meter

squared. A Weber is the unit of magnetic flux.”Sami decided keeping his questions to himself might be a good

idea for the time being.“Thirty million amps sounds like a lot of power,” said Meg,

“about the same as a small hydro dam but fusion has advantages in terms of managing the danger. There’s a built-in safety valve. Fusionstops as soon as the magnetic compression diminishes. It’s not like a self-generating fission reaction. In the pinch system we have to use fission to get things started.”

Sami had to work to follow the concept. He was concentrating on Meg. He forgot about Paul.

“You’re saying that to get all this started you need to set off an atomic bomb?” Sami said.

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“A little one,” said Kallik.“It’s not an atomic bomb,” Paul said in a tense voice. “It’s a

controlled fission reaction and it’s a lot safer than the nuclear power plants we’re using right now, which themselves are safer than most of our other energy sources. It’s a good idea and we’re ignoring it.”

“We could use lasers,” Meg said again.Paul stepped back in. “You,” he pointed toward Sami, “don’t

know what a Tesla is. And you,” he stepped toward Kallik, “are a tinkerer from people so primitive they walked into range to look at the pretty sparks from bullets ricocheting off rocks. Samuel Hearne’sCree guides were shooting at them! Read your history! The Inuit got slaughtered. They deserved it. Dumber than ptarmigan.”

Paul was within arm’s length of Kallik. He was bigger. Sami was sensitive to threats. Paul was becoming a threat. Kallik was still answering Meg.

“Lasers are all controlled by the military and they’re huge,” said Kal. “Maybe a time will come when someone develops a small powerful laser array, but right now all the laser research is going intodeath rays. Hundred foot long tubes to shoot down incoming missiles.”

“Don’t contradict either of us,” Paul said. “It’s beyond you, a long way beyond you. It always will be.”

Meg tried to keep the conversation professional. “We all read about the computer simulation for thermonuclear compression but it’s American army, plus it seriously underestimates the power we need.”

“I’m not saying you don’t know. You’re a scientist,” said Paul. “I’m talking about him. The two of them. A repairman and a security

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guard. Things are slow enough without having to take their crackpot opinions into account.”

Usually Kallik was quick with a joke. Sami wondered why he didn’t put Paul in his place. Maybe Kallik only joked with his friends.

“I’m the one who makes this work,” said Kallik. “I have to fix everything.”

“Sure, you’re good with your hands,” said Paul, “but mechanics are easy to find. You’re little and you’re slow. You’ll never understand physics.”

Kallik was clenching both his fists. Sami recognized that Paul was eight inches taller and eighty pounds heavier but in a moment Kallik would be past caring. Sami was going to have to step in.

“That was rude. Very rude.”Velen was standing behind Paul. Sami wondered how long he’d

been there, how much he’d heard. Velen wasn’t much bigger than Kallik. Paul turned.

“Stay out of this, old man!”Velen looked offended. His left hand shot out and blood erupted

from Paul’s nose.“You broke my nose!”Sami kept his eyes on Paul, watching body language. Back down

or attack? Kallik and Meg weren’t moving, except that Meg’s mouthwas wide open. Paul gave his head an involuntary shake. Blood flew.

“You broke my nose!” He didn’t sound submissive. That was a mistake. Velen’s fist hit him on the left point of the jaw, driving it toward Paul’s right ear. Paul’s eyes lost focus and he collapsed. Sami caught him, lowering him gently to the floor.

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Velen nodded to Kallik. “He was rude,” said Velen, “to you and to me. I won’t put up with that.”

“Actually,” said Kallik, “he wasn’t completely wrong about using fission to start the reaction. I see how that could work.”

“He was ready to punch you out,” said Sami. “This isn’t the moment to take his side.”

“It’s not about sides,” said Kallik. “It’s about listening to the other person.”

“Which Paul was not doing,” said Meg. Finally Kallik shut up.Velen gestured to Sami to help carry Paul over to the lunchroom.

They left Meg and Kallik arguing about lasers.“Passionate people, scientists,” said Velen as they laid Paul out

on a table. He reset the nose. Then he got some damp towels and set about cleaning up the unconscious man.

“Did you understand what was going on back there?” Velen asked Sami.

“They were arguing about whether laser compression or plasma acceleration is the best way to start fusion.”

“No. It was a status challenge. You and I have to watch out for these things, these IQ shoving matches. We have to divert the mood before it gets this far. I don’t like hurting someone I have to work with, even when in the normal world his social skills ― his total lack of social skills ― would leave him solitary as a wolverine.”

“He’s half again as big as you are.”“You know he didn’t have a chance. He’s never been in a real

fight in his life, not even that kerfuffle five minutes ago. Watch here how I pack the nostrils with tissues to stop the bleeding. He should heal nicely; and it’s good we’re done because he’s starting to wake

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up. ”Paul’s eyes opened in stages. He looked like he had a headache.“No one ever hit me before.”“They should have. The way you talk, I’m sure they wanted to.”“I’m sorry.” Sami looked at Paul’s neck for any tensing but he

couldn’t see the anger coming back. Maybe it would be a problem later but the immediate danger seemed to be over.

“You’ll be fine. I didn’t really hurt you.”“But you could have.”“Good. That’s exactly what I want you to understand.”“I’m going to have to lie down for a while.”“I’m sorry about that. I know you have important work to do. So

do we all. Am I going to have any more trouble with you?”“No, sir.”“What made you talk like that to Kallik of all people? He’s a

good kid. And Sami. Janis is going to know what happened. Even if she doesn’t hear it from me she’ll hear it from other people. What you said was intended to hurt Kallik, but it’s nothing compared to what Janis is going to do to you if she decides it’s necessary.”

“I know.” Paul looked like he was going to cry. Sami looked away.

“Good. I’ll tell Janis you’ll be resting til tomorrow and that should be the end of it.”

“Thank you.”Velen beckoned Sami, turned away and they left. He waited til

they were out of earshot before he spoke again.“Paul is as smart as they come ― they all are ― but of course

what they don’t know is still infinite. Somehow dry technical details trigger a huge emotional reaction. I’ve seen it before. Commitment

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to an equation pushes social skills right out the window. People forminto groups and anyone who disagrees is the enemy; especially on this project where there’s so much at stake, and because everyone here has been treated as a weirdo for most of his or her life, except for you and me, of course,” and he smiled and slapped Sami on the shoulder. It was the first affectionate gesture Sami could remember from Velen.

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Chapter 15

On Tuesday they headed out to Velen’s brother’s to load the truck. It was a five-ton, nothing fancy, a bench seat in the cab and, on the back, a big box that they climbed into by stepping onto a square steel crossbar and then up through the big pull-down door.

The marijuana was stacked in the rear corner on the passenger’s side. The rest of the load was mixed produce: cabbage, carrots, potatoes, turnips, beets. It was all hand-loaded in boxes and took them three hours to get a good tight fit. At the back they placed freshfruit, mainly variety apples. When they were done Velen put a big padlock on the latch and they went inside to sleep.

Overnight the dogs stayed quiet. Velen and Sami got up at 5:30 and were on the road an hour before sunrise. It was a long slow haul up to the Salmo-Creston summit and the engine got hot but it didn’t boil over. Once the truck got up onto the flats they drove slowly to cool down and then stopped for breakfast.

Sami was at the wheel for the second shift. They were taking turns, not more than two hours each. After coffee Velen got them through the Crowsnest Pass and then they were into Alberta.

Lunch was at an old hotel in Nanton. It was the first time Sami had ever seen grain elevators. The land was so flat he could see the clouds coming up around the curve of the earth.

Driving here meant watching the road and the fields while time passed, completely different from the twists and turns in the

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mountains. They kept to the speed limit, letting the faster traffic go by, staying on the main highway, going straight through the cities.

By suppertime they were over halfway, north of Edmonton at a truckstop café outside Fort Saskatchewan. It was two hours after thatthat they got onto Highway 63, joining the big trucks and fast cars heading to the oil sands in Fort McMurray.

Velen had coffee in a thermos, sandwiches and a couple of apples from the back of the truck. The headlights were on. It had been a long day. They changed drivers now every hour.

The trees were shorter but there were more of them. They went on forever. Except for clearings around the occasional small lake it was dry country.

“You may be wondering why we’re heading up to Fort Mac,” Velen said.

“I try not to wonder,” Sami said. “It’s less confusing.”“Have you ever heard of Project Cauldron?”“No. For metal smelting it sounds grandiose. Does it have

anything to do with witches and demons?”“Not exactly. It was an early attempt to find an industrial use for

nuclear explosives. The name scared people so they changed it to Project Oilsands. The idea was that they could get the oil to flow by setting off a hundred atom bombs under Fort McMurray. The Department of Mines approved it but then it was cancelled by the federal cabinet. Something to do with the threat of Russian spying.”

“It sounds crazy.”“Maybe,” said Velen, “but you have to give them credit for bold

ideas. It’s the world’s biggest oil reservoir. There’s a lot of potential money there.”

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“I like fusion because it isn’t fission,” Sami said, “particularly not explosive fission.”

“True,” said Velen, “but both work with high temperatures. Veryhigh temperatures.”

“You said Project Cauldron was cancelled,” Sami said. “We’re going for business, not science. From what I’ve read, Fort McMurray has a lot of money.”

“We gave your friends a good price for leaf,” said Velen. “They know it’s not worth what we paid. Of course it doesn’t hurt our buying power when we have a reputation for generosity.”

“What you’re saying,” said Sami, “is that when we deliver this the buyer would like to think our price is cheap.”

“Things cost more up north but the extra advantage is that this is oil country. These people are chemists. They know how to make oil out of tar sand. They can also make oil out of marijuana.”

“Oil?”“Marijuana leaf is a good feed stock for hash oil. Tell the

customer it’s from Lebanon and the price goes up. Money is all about having a premium experience and showing your friends you know where to get the best. We provide the basic material. Our buyer knows how to add value. Everyone’s willing to pay extra for that opportunity.” Velen took a bite out of his apple.

The traffic was steady, all of it going faster than they were. It was after midnight when they finally saw the lights of town. They drove on through, past the bars which showed no signs of closing. After a little while the main avenue veered into an industrial street that became a quiet riverside park. There was a dirt parking lot there.They pulled in and went to sleep.

Sami wakened before Velen. He could see a couple of dog

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walkers but it was a big lot with room for everyone and the other parked cars had left a polite distance. Sami ate his sandwich and admired the view. It wasn’t until he bit into his apple that Velen wakened.

Velen had backed the truck into its parking spot. Now he put out a painted sign saying “Farm Fresh Apples ― $4 a Box”. Beside it heset up a wooden table with three boxes of apples and two more on the ground. They didn’t wait long for a car to pull in.

“It’s my cousin,” Velen said.He walked over to the car as the driver was getting out. They

hugged. “Sami, this is Vanya,” said Velen.“Long drive,” said Vanya.“He’s a good kid,” said Velen. “A careful worker.”“I told one of the food markets you’re bringing in fresh

Doukhobour vegetables,” said Vanya. “You drove past it coming in. Here’s the address.”

“I didn’t think you’d have any trouble selling the load. I know you want some boxes for yourself.”

“Don’t rush. Here comes another customer.”It was one of the dog walkers. The dog ran to Sami and sniffed

his hand, a small dog, most likely a terrier-spaniel mix. The owner checked the apples and was impressed. He bought a box. “Tell your friends,” said Velen.

Vanya’s pickup was parallel to the five-ton. He and Sami were mostly concealed from the road as they moved the marijuana bales onto the smaller truck. Vanya threw a tarp over the load and tied it down. He had a toolbox to give Velen. Velen looked inside, shook his hand and Vanya drove away. Sami and Velen spent the rest of

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the morning selling boxes of apples.After the noon rush there were only a few boxes left and it was

time for their own lunch. During the morning they’d sold some beetsand carrots but there was still a good load left for the grocery store. That delivery was more formal, but efficient. By mid-afternoon all the load was sold and they’d finished sweeping out the truck.

“A good day’s work,” said Velen. “We should rest before we drive all the way back. It’s a chance to take in the local culture. I sawa sign. We could get a couple of rooms at Heartbreak Hotel.”

“You’re kidding.”“No, that really is the name of one of the hotels here. It must be

to pull in the tourists, which is what we are, as much as the tar sands get tourists, so we should stay there.”

“That’s old, from the Fifties. Old-fashioned.”“Small towns are old-fashioned. You know that. We both grew

up in one. It sounds like fun. I’m not telling you to go hog-wild but if we don’t give ourselves a night to relax, somewhere on the road home we’re going to drive over a cliff.”

“I remember. Once we cross back over the provincial boundary, lots of cliffs.”

“Good. You park the truck. I’ll get us a couple of rooms.”After lunch they went to their rooms for an afternoon nap. Velen

agreed to come and get Sami at suppertime. Then they’d go back to bed, the idea being that they could be well-rested and still manage tobe on the road before sunrise.

When he heard the knock on the door Sami felt like he’d barely slept at all. He pulled his clothes on and opened up. But it wasn’t Velen. It was two men he’d never seen.

The big one pushed the door wide and stepped in quickly. His

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friend followed. One big, one quick. If there was a fight the little onewould start it.

“Where’s the old guy?” said the smaller man.“He’s not here.”“I can see that. Where is he?”“Next door.”“Let’s go talk to him.”Sami knocked at Velen’s door. They could all hear the old man

cough and rustle around getting dressed. It didn’t take long. When they hear the knob turn the big man stepped behind Sami. Velen opened the door a crack. He saw Sami and knew something was wrong.

“We need to talk to you,” the smaller man said.“Come in,” said Velen.The three of them came into the room just far enough to close

the door behind them. “You just sold a truckload of vegetables downat the supermarket,” said the smaller man.

“I did,” said Velen.“Where’s the money?”“I have it,” said Velen.“Give it to me.”“No.”“We don’t want to hurt you but we can.” The smaller man

produced a serrated hunting knife from under his coat. “We really need that money.” Reflexively Sami turned toward the knife but the big man stepped in close, wrapped his arms around Sami from behind and leaned back just enough for Sami to feel his own weight start to come off the ground. The surprise made him suck in a deep

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breath.Velen stepped back. He raised his hands, palms up. He looked

frightened.Sami recognized the classic defensive stance from their long

days of practice. He went limp, his legs collapsing. The big man tightened his grip to keep Sami from fainting to the ground. His headleaned forward.

Then Sami straightened his legs and his own head came up fast, snapping back to butt his attacker full in the face. His breath went out and his elbows came up against the loosened grip, just enough for him to sink down and step through his opponent’s legs.

Sami wrapped both arms around the nearest leg and continued tolean forward. The big man was stronger but he was at the wrong end of the lever. As they both went down Sami made sure his full weightlanded on the man’s groin.

So far it had been quick, action beating reaction, but that wasn’t going to last. Sami drove his elbow in below the ribs and heard a satisfying “Oof!” but he could still feel the remnants of a struggle. He needed a finishing blow. He put all his energy into the head punch. Then he wondered why he still hadn’t felt the knife in his back.

Sami’s move had been just enough of a distraction for Velen to step closer to the knifeman and catch his wrist. Velen’s other elbow chopped down on the inside of the knife arm, pulling the man’s headdown just in time to meet Velen’s elbow coming back up. That slowed things enough for Velen’s left arm to reach under and lock against the knifeman’s elbow. The arm broke. The knife dropped.

The smaller man was rigid with pain. Velen stepped behind him and wrapped his right arm around the man’s neck so that his right

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hand clamped onto his own left bicep, as his left hand locked againstthe back of the knifeman’s head, pushing it down and forward against the crook of Velen’s right arm. Within seconds the knifeman went limp.

The big man was struggling now after seeing what had happenedto his partner. Sami rocked back onto his feet, dodging a kick. That gave the big man time to roll to his right but before he could get to his knees Velen was behind him, getting both arms around his neck in the same stranglehold. The big man stood up, lifting Velen off the ground like a weasel locked onto an eagle’s back. The big man looked at Sami. Then his eyes rolled back and he collapsed.

Velen went down with him, releasing as his feet hit the ground. He checked the carotid pulse.

“So far, so good,” he said. “Check the hallway. We need to put them out on the fire escape.”

“Will they die?” asked Sami.“They might,” said Velen, “but they probably won’t and they

started this by threatening to kill us. They might have tried to kill meas soon as they came through the door. It’s good that they didn’t do that. They assumed they were attacking farmers. We’re not the criminals here. They are, but because they had the goodness to bluff we’re going to be gentle with them even if it’s a lot of extra work.”

The fire escape turned out to be at the end of the hall where a metal stairway went down to the ground. It took two trips to prop their assailants on the landing inside the doorway and another ten minutes to get the truck on the road. After another four and a half hours they were in Fort Saskatchewan where they found another hotel and finally got a good night’s sleep.

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Chapter 16

The next morning they slept in, had a leisurely breakfast and got a comfortably late start. It was close to check-out time when they handed in the keys. When they stopped for lunch at the same old hotel in Nanton it was two o’clock. Sami did most of the driving, listening to country music on the radio.

On the news there was still a lot of speculation around Elvis’s death but in among the celebrity gossip there was a little bit of science. Voyager II continued on its way to Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune and beyond. SETI had detected a deep space radio signal for over a minute from the general direction of the constellation Sagittarius. Ohio State University was now ahead in the race to contact extra-terrestrials.

Sami turned off the radio.“Why did those two guys come after us? How did they know

where we were?”“They saw us sell a truckload of produce to the supermarket.

You heard him say that. Then they followed us. We had money so they decided to rob us. People notice things. It’s not a big town.”

“It just seems like too much of a coincidence that they’d attack us when we’re smuggling drugs. Maybe they work for the local gangsters, the ones who I imagine control all the crime in Fort McMurray.”

“There might be a gang there and I’m sure there’s crime but

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that’s not going to be the main source of money in Fort Mac. People up there earn the biggest paycheques in the country. I don’t think robbing us was planned. You’re worried they might know about my cousin.”

“Yes. I don’t think he’d set us up but maybe now he’s at risk.”“I don’t think so. I’m not saying they wouldn’t know each other.

It’s a small town. But I think they were just watching trucks in the business district and we looked like a good target. A couple of thugs with a knife is about right for a simple stick-up.”

“So if they knew we were drug dealers they’d have guns. Speaking of which, why don’t we have guns?”

“First, we’re trying to make money, not acting out a TV script. Second, I don’t know if you can shoot. We’ve never been on the range, practising. We won the fight back there because we practise hand-to-hand. A lot. Third, our job is easiest when we’re invisible. Guns are dramatic and loud.”

“They’re only loud when they’re fired.”“Whatever weapon you’re got, assume you’re going to use it. I

like that you didn’t hesitate to head-butt the guy who grabbed you. I counted on that. I could bet that by now those moves are automatic for you. Action beats reaction.”

“Do you ever use a gun?”“You know I have a rifle. I didn’t bring it. Long guns are for

hunting. Handguns are for shooting people. There’s a strong hostilityin this country against waving guns around casually. Let me tell you a story. I was with some friends in a bar in downtown Calgary when a guy a couple of tables over wanted to sell a handgun to his friends. He was trying to be furtive but we all saw it and the waiter saw it

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too. “The waiter finished filling his tray with empty glasses and

headed into the back room. Forty-five seconds later there were two police officers with drawn guns coming through the back door and two more coming through the front door; fast, quiet and at the table before the gun seller even knew they were there. Ten seconds later he was handcuffed, the other guys at the table denied ever seeing him before and he was out the back door with two of the police. The other two police talked to the waiter, made notes and went back to walking their beat.

“Within five minutes the bar was back to normal. My point is that officialdom takes firearms very seriously. I’m sure you appreciate that in all the work we do, not just in our fundraising, thatit’s best if we don’t need to spend a lot of time explaining ourselves.”

They drove the next few miles quietly looking at the view. The next time Sami spoke he made sure it wasn’t controversial. They needed a break.

After they had their pie and coffee it was Velen’s turn to drive. The radio was back on. It was a consumer report about electronic games for the Atari 2600, a new version which contained a programmable computer so different games could be plugged in. That was an opportunity for independent game designers. Originally targeting the business market, the Commodore PET personal computer was now for sale to schools. It had a built-in cassette recorder for storage. There was little risk that the IBM mainframe would be replaced in the near future.

“What do you know about computers?” Velen asked.“Not much. I know that entering data is supposed to be one of

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the most boring jobs you can have.”“You do know that particle physics depends on computers to

predict where the particles are going to be.”“You can’t do that using a little computer sitting on a teacher’s

desk. You need a mainframe.”“You’re right. As a matter of necessity we do have access to a

mainframe, two actually. There are eight megabytes in the main processor. When two are linked together we have sixteen megabytes.If we design the right model we get a useable particle path.”

“Where do you keep this mainframe? These two mainframes?”“We keep it where we can run a program in the wee hours of the

morning if no one else needs the machines and the operator feels likedoing us a favour. Which is another reason why we need a few extra dollars.”

“Do you think these little computers will ever be able to do anything useful?”

“I don’t think so, but it doesn’t matter. There’s always something big where the owners don’t need it all the time. That’s true of everything in the world. Lions don’t eat everything that they kill. The predators take their share and the scavengers make sure what’s left over gets used. It’s an efficient system.”

“What about the prey?”“Prey are a different species. You can’t look out for everyone …

everything.”“So you don’t believe sometimes you eat the bear and sometimes

the bear eats you.”“Bears eat mostly salmon that are already dying and berries.

Bears are apex scavengers.”

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“Okay. So that’s going to be us. Observant and wise rather than violent, most of the time at least.”

“That’s been my strategy. So far it’s been working, not just for me but for our production group.”

For the next long while the tires hummed as the scenery rolled by. The prairie turned into foothills and then twisted into mountains.

Sami was starting to doze when Velen spoke.“I didn’t really thank you for what you did back there,” he said.“All I did was react,” said Sami. “You did it all.”“Reacting was what made everything else possible. It was the

only thing that really mattered. When I was young I was quick but now any half-decent thug sees what I’m going to do and that’s not good enough. To make my move I need a distraction. Someone who is quick. That’s you. So thank you.”

They got supper at a truck stop on the long industrial stretch leading into Cranbrook. It was dark now and they got extra coffee for the thermos. The radio was back on and longer news stories played twice each hour.

The big science news was smallpox, finally eradicated thanks to vaccination after killing five hundred million people in the twentieth century alone. In the nineteenth century closer to home smallpox hadkilled most of North America’s native people, almost 90% in some areas, worse than the plague in medieval Europe.

The news was that there was a case just diagnosed in Somalia. The World Health Organization believed that the vaccination program there had eliminated the disease. Nobody in Europe had hadsmallpox since 1972. It was just one case, not an epidemic, so the doctors were optimistic that the virus would soon be extinct.

Sami was driving. Velen felt he should talk, to keep them both

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awake, although Velen really didn’t enjoy talking. Maybe he could extend the radio story into a conversation.

“When you were studying mathematics did you ever think you should learn something more profitable, like becoming a doctor? I’ve seen your marks. I know you could have qualified for whatever you wanted.”

“You mean like being a medical researcher: eliminating smallpox, curing cancer, fighting obesity?”

“Not exactly. I was thinking more about working at a clinic, seeing a patient every fifteen minutes and billing the medical plan.”

“For the money.”“It’s what a lot of people do. Haven’t you ever wanted money?”Sami thought about that. “I’ve never needed a lot of money.

What I always needed were friends. People as weird as I am.”“I guess you’ve got that now. You get along with the team as

well as anyone can,” Velen said. “Personally I’ve always wanted to feel that I was making a difference, that such a thing was possible. I wanted to believe in life before death.”

They continued down the road without talking. Velen fell asleep.Long after it was Velen’s turn to take over, Sami continued to drive on into the night.

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Chapter 17

After a good sleep out at the farm they dropped off the truck. Sami biked up to the lab to report to Janis while Velen hiked in with the money.

Being back on the mountain trail Sami felt like a lifetime had passed, even though it was less than a week. Most of the snow had melted but there were patches here and there. He remembered not to leave tracks close to the lab, partly out of habit, but also because now everything felt more dangerous. The snow wasn’t sticking yet, therefore no big obvious prints to brush out. He made his way through the tunnels, seeing it all with new eyes.

Things started to feel more normal when he saw Kallik lying on the floor poking connectors under the tokamak. Meg was watching the display and calling back the results from Kal’s adjustments. Samifelt a brief sharp twinge of jealousy.

They were both delighted to see him. Meg said Janis was in her office. Sami said he’d come back as soon as he’d made his report. Janis was also delighted to see him, sat him down and closed the door.

“Since you’re back I assume everything went well,” she said, “and since Velen sent you on ahead, I imagine it wasn’t entirely routine.”

“After the delivery some people tried to rob us.”“I’m sorry but, since you don’t look hurt, I’m more sorry for the

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people you were fighting. Was Velen hurt?”“No.”“I didn’t think so. Sometimes I think that man is indestructible

but then I give myself a pinch and remind myself that no one is indestructible. That does worry me but if he didn’t take risks he wouldn’t be Velen.”

“He should be here soon. He’s got the money.”“I should tell you why this money is important to us, after all

you’ve gone through.”“I know that without money you can’t get things done.”“I can be more specific than that. We’ve had good results with

the neutral beam system. Once you get the fuel ions up to speed you send them through a thin gas to gather electrons so that the tokamak’s magnetic system can’t deflect them and destroy the beam.But, once they’re in the plasma beam, collisions ionize them again plus the collisions heat the plasma even more. It’s like friction. Remember we need to get up to a hundred million degrees here.

“That temperature vaporizes metal. Even if the plasma never touches the walls of the chamber, even if it only comes close, we need to tile the chamber walls and we need to change those tiles regularly.

“We need to maintain stability above a neutral beam threshold. Itrequires a diverter to keep the deuterium fuel pure as it enters the tokamak. The diverter is like a large insulating washer, carbon to handle the heat.

“These are specialty items, as you can imagine, and we need to show we have the money before we can get them manufactured. Thanks to you two, now we can do that.”

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“Are there more things you need?”“Not right now,” said Janis, “but it’s a safe bet that in the near

future one of our physicists will have another good idea that will cost a lot of money.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t ask but why is everything so hush-hush? I thought banks were eager to invest in the energy industry.”

“They are. They’ll put millions into new energy sources. We’re seeing nuclear power plants being built in several different places around the world, but with fusion there’s one important difference.”

“Which is?”“I suppose you need to know. How much have you heard about

Kip Siegel?”“Nothing.”“Of all the fusion researchers he’s had the most practical

success.”“Why don’t you work with him?”“He died two years ago. He was testifying in front of the

Congressional Joint Committee on Atomic Energy about a laser fusion gas plant.”

“How did he die?”“He had a stroke. He was fifty-two years old.”“Was his death suspicious?”“Not obviously, but it happened to coincide with a shift in laser

research from power generation to weapons testing. A lot of fusion research in the United States had been classified as a military secret but it was esoteric and people talked. There was an article in Scientific American. There was another one in Nature. Meg pointed that one out to me.”

“I read the Nature article. That was a long time ago.”

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“Five years. When you’re young five years does seem like a longtime. But after Dr. Siegel’s death everything clamped down tight. Even though we weren’t in the United States we all agreed it would be prudent to be less visible.”

“I’d say you’ve succeeded.”“So far. The science we’re dealing with has to be extremely

accurate. We want to be equally serious about our security.”“How much money do you think you’ll need eventually?”“The fusion budget in the United States is four hundred million

dollars. President Carter says he’ll double it and on the Republican side Ronald Reagan says he’ll cancel the whole thing, which I think means moving that money over to the Defence Department. What Kip Siegel was doing is a good start on a high-powered laser weapon.”

“I don’t hear our government talking about science. It’s mostly canoe trips and art events.”

“Canada waits for the United States to develop something and then buys it from them, plus if you can believe the gossip in the news the Trudeau family problems have to be a distraction. In all theworld right now the people in this mine are the only ones doing something new, as far as I know, and we’re doing it without a lot of money. That’s not the same as no money at all.”

Sami thought for a moment. “You and Velen think about the money so the researchers can think about the science.”

“Yes. He and I think, and you and he accomplish and, since there’s always overlap, I also need you to help us think.”

That was when Velen arrived. Sami thanked Janis for her explanation and went looking for Meg. She and Kallik were still

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looking at the machine. Sami convinced them to take a break.This time they went outside. Sami often wondered how the

scientists all could live twenty-four hours a day in a cave without going even more crazy. The others noticed them leave but when theysaw Sami guiding they decided it was okay.

He had a new route that started by moving along the side of the split cliff. There were footholds that got them up onto a fallen log, still solid, with thirty meters before the branches started. After fifteen minutes of winding through the woods he slipped between two bushes, had a long listen, took a good look around and then brought them out to sit with him overlooking the lake.

“I’ve never been here before,” said Meg.“We never stop to sit when we go outside,” said Kallik. “We’re

always going somewhere.”“I like it,” said Sami. “It’s peaceful.”“Why are we here?” said Kallik. “Is there something you need to

tell us?”“Not really. No problems I’ve heard about. Do you have

everything you need?”“Janis has our wish list,” said Meg. “She said after you got back,

items should start arriving but she never said what exactly it is that you do. We assume it’s more than just moving industrial equipment over mountain trails without getting noticed.”

“Not that that isn’t helpful,” said Kallik, “and I’m glad that I don’t have to do it myself.”

“You seem well-educated for someone who’s working mainly asa packhorse,” said Meg.

“I don’t know if that’s what I do mainly,” said Sami, “but it’s revealing to hear how other people see me. Let me ask you this.

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After you succeed, after the world’s energy market is transformed, after you’re recognized as the geniuses you’ve always been, how will you celebrate your success?”

Meg looked at him. A hawk flew straight across the lake, from the top of one tall tree to a distant forest giant, with strong steady wingbeats. Meg hesitated for a heartbeat, maybe two.

“After we succeed we’ll be able to work on a bigger problem. Each accomplishment raises the level of what you can do.”

“When do you rest?” asked Sami. “When do you stop and smell the pine needles?”

Kallik spoke. “We rest at night. When something doesn’t work we stop to think why. That’s when the real work gets done, when werest.”

Sami looked at Meg. She wasn’t disagreeing.“I’m not saying this isn’t nice,” said Kallik. “It’s good to get out.

Change makes us think in new ways. Maybe being here will help us understand the problem better.”

“Now you’re going too far,” said Meg. “I can understand ‘think in new ways’ but I’m not willing to use ripples on a lake as a metaphor for sub-atomic particles. We’re not back in high school.”

Sami’s attempt at distraction was not working. “Do the two of you ever stop thinking about work? Let me rephrase that. Is either ofyou capable of relaxing into nature for sixty seconds?”

“Maybe twenty seconds. I inherit a strong cultural tradition to socialize. Arctic survival for thousands of years. You want me to stop talking for sixty seconds?”

It was Meg’s turn. “He wants us to stop talking and stop thinkingfor just a little while. I think that mildly sarcastic comment was an

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attempt to define ‘a little while’.“I can stop talking,” said Kallik.Meg didn’t answer. Neither did Sami. They waited for the hawk

to fly back. It didn’t.

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Chapter 18

It was so quiet that after a while Sami decided he’d better say something, just in case his talkative friends became so relaxed they’dnever speak again.

“Say something in Inuit.”“We don’t speak Inuit. That’s the people, not the language, like

Belgians who speak Flemish or Scots who speak Gaelic. We speak Inuktitut. Ask her to say something in Hindi.”

“My parents didn’t speak Hindi. They spoke Urdu. I can’t speak either. They didn’t teach us. They didn’t want us kids to know what they were saying. Say something in Finnish.”

“Dit is ’n groot vis.”“Which means?”“‘That’s a big fish.’ It sounds like ‘great’ but it just means ‘big’.

My grandparents wanted me to know a few words.”“I know how to say the same thing in Inuktitut - ‘angiyok

ikaluk’.Meg smiled. “It makes me feel secure, knowing that such

advanced intellectuals share a primeval connection to the land or, in this case, the water.”

Sami winced. “I guess sometimes I feel like a hillbilly, surrounded by people chosen from all around the world. I fell down a rabbit hole and immediately the whole world was transformed.”

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“If you think we’re strange,” said Kallik, “imagine how you must look to us.”

“I don’t think you’re strange,” said Sami. “I can’t find the right word. I feel like you know important things that I don’t. I feel like you’re the least strange people in this entire project, which is why I felt comfortable enough to bring you out here. I understand logicallywhat we’re doing. I understand the work. Where I have trouble is it seems like your lives are nothing but work, all of you. How can you come up with new ideas when everything is so narrowly focussed? Don’t you need new ideas?”

“Maybe this will help,” Meg said. “There are two things going on in the lab. One is that we’re building a machine where the details are important and everyone has to stay focussed. The other is that sometimes things go slightly wrong and we don’t always notice as fast as we would if we looked away for a moment and then looked back.”

“Wait a minute,” said Kallik. “You didn’t tell me anything was going wrong.”

“It’s not really wrong. It’s just that it’s not working as well as it needs to.”

“It’s a machine. Either it works or it doesn’t.”“It’s boiling plasma moving almost at the speed of light. If you

think it’s the same thing as turning on a tap you’re over-confident.”“As I was saying,” said Sami, “getting away from work,

enjoying nature, recharging the intellectual batteries; I don’t want it to become too much of a good thing. Maybe we should be getting back.”

“I like it here,” said Kallik.“So do I,” said Meg.

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“Well, we can’t just stare at the scenery and adjust the tokamak using mind control.”

“We can stare at the scenery,” said Meg. “When I was growing up, nature was always full of people. Big crowds of people went out to enjoy nature. After a while I just wanted to stay inside and read. This is different. This is nice.”

“We didn’t have so many people where I grew up,” said Kallik. “We also didn’t have plants jammed together like this ― trees, bushes, grass everywhere. I feel like something might be creeping upon me but oddly enough I’d trust you to notice if it was. I believe you understand this strange dry rocky country. I trust you.”

“We should be getting back,” said Sami.“I agree with Kallik,” said Meg. “We trust you.”Sami looked up at the sky and then over toward the horizon.

“Feel the wind? A little stronger? We’re in the mountains. We don’t want to wait until we feel a raindrop. We should start walking.”

By the time they got back to the tunnel the wind was whipping their clothes but the moment they were inside there was no more weather.

After all that walking and climbing they were hungry so they went to the lunchroom for a snack. They had the place to themselves.

“I know this is a team effort,” Sami said, “but different people have different skills. I don’t really understand Paul. Where would you say he fits in?”

“I guess out of all of us he has the most practical experience,” Meg said. “Industrial experience. For years he was on projects with government budgets.”

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“But he’s not creative like you are,” Kallik said. “I know because whenever one of you has an idea I’m the one who has to change little things to make it real. He’s not self-confident. He’s always trying to figure out who the real boss is, what’s the safe move.”

Sami was surprised. “When he talked to me it was all about independence and the power of the individual.”

“We all have ideals,” Meg said, “but we don’t always know howto fit them into our lives. Paul doesn’t like contradictions. A surpriseis like a betrayal. But we’ve all learned to work around that.”

“Paul has a lot of experience,” Kallik said, “more than the rest ofus combined. When Paul does have an idea that can’t work the easiest thing is to do what he says and show him how it fails. He’s enough of a scientist to trust the evidence of his senses.”

“He’s a good scientist,” Meg said. “It’s just that he can be stubborn.”

“Very stubborn,” Kallik said.Meg nodded. “Sometimes I think he trusts the people he used to

work with more than he trusts us.”“Why wouldn’t he?” said Sami. “That was so much bigger, for

so much longer.”“This is different,” Meg said. “Some of the ideas are transferable

but when you work from the bottom up this is really different.”Kal looked at Sami and nodded. Sami found himself agreeing

with them.“There’s something else,” Sami said. “What about that fight the

other day?”“The fight that was over before it started?” Kallik said.Sami looked at him. “You put up with some nasty insults.”

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“Not for the first time. His old story isn’t the way things are now, not for me at least. When I was a teenager my hunting buddies were Cree. We got along fine. Things might have been different a couple of hundred years ago. A lot of things.”

“What did you hunt?” Sami asked.“The big game was whales,” Kallik said. “When you shoot a

whale you’ve got to pick a fat one, otherwise it’ll sink. Meg, you probably didn’t know that, being an urban Canadian.”

“I think Sami’s right,” Meg said. “You should take Paul seriously. If he does anything like that again we all have to stand up to him.”

“One whale can feed a village for a long time,” Kallik said. “More often we hunted caribou or birds. He was right about bullets sparking when they hit rocks.”

“You’re not answering me,” Sami said. “Why is Paul willing to make everyone mad? What’s so important to him?”

“If I had to guess,” Meg said, “I’d say he prefers technology thatproceeds step by step. He wants the last big discovery, fission, to play an important part in the next step, fusion. He doesn’t like leapfrogging. He wants an orderly progression.”

“Even if he controlled every detail there’d still be something left unknown,” Sami said.

“You see the problem,” replied Kallik.By the time Sami came back outside the snow was falling

steadily enough that it looked like it might stick. He would have preferred to wait but there was always pressure not to leave tracks sohe got his bike and headed down the mountain, skidding and putting his foot out to keep from falling, which meant that more than once

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he came down on the saddle harder than he would have liked.Once he got down to the highway he stayed out in the car lane

for a few hundred meters so that traffic would blot out his early tracks. Then he moved over onto the shoulder which was wide enough. He didn’t want to get going too fast.

As he got lower the snow got lighter until the pavement was wet instead of white. In town it was just a few flakes and when he starteddown the long hill the road was dry, though he had a strong tailwind which he didn’t really need. On the other hand fun is where you find it, so he was really flying around the first big curves, and then the hairpin was coming up so fast he had to start squeezing the brakes halfway down the long straight. Altogether he made the last half of the trip home in record time.

In the next weeks he was back to patrolling on skis, carrying them up and telemarking. Often Velen drove him to the ski hill and they took cross-country trails from there. Skiing was a big part of thelocal culture, ski tourism was an important business and it was prudent to divert cross-country packed paths away from the lab. If someone pioneered a trail a little too close Sami made sure a tree fellacross it.

He was over on the far side of Old Glory when he ran across Roy again, crouched down swirling wet gravel in his pan. Old Glory was the highest mountain in the area, a little over 7,000 feet, with its summit well above the treeline. Sami didn’t usually get around to thevalley on the west but he was feeling adventurous and the thick brush on the lower slopes was buried deep enough that he could make good time on his skis.

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Sami liked patrolling in the winter. It was easier. The key was to get high where he could see a long way. Undergrowth was buried so that everything in the landscape stood out. In some places the snow was so deep that what looked like small bushes were the tops of tall trees.

Any other skiers or snowshoers were easy to see. Ski jackets tended to be colourful. Often where there was a trail through the snow the sun threw the indentation into shadow so Sami always noticed when a traveller had passed by.

For example about a thousand feet below him there was a ski track, cutting around the mountain, going into heavier growth over by the creek. Fresh tracks, from the look of them.

Sami telemarked down through the powder, heading for the point where the ski trail vanished into the brush. He knew the creek there was wide enough to carry away falling snow. Animals coming to drink would brush against shrubbery and compact game trails so that snowdrifts wouldn’t form the way they did over the windier partof the range.

The tracks led upstream to where Sami knew there was a pool. He expected it would be frozen but there might be enough undercurrent to keep it open, and in fact when he got there that was the case. At the edge of the running water he found Roy, panning thegravel bar.

Sami’s first thought was that he might have stumbled onto Roy’ssecret claim. He was surprised. Sami had always assumed gold panning was a summer activity. It was cold weather for wet work.

Roy didn’t seem worried, far from it. His first reaction when Sami came into sight was to smile, stand up and wave.

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“You do get around,” Roy said.“I could say the same about you,” said Sami. “What makes you

so dedicated?”“People underestimate gold,” Roy said as he walked over to the

shore. “It’s not just an ornament, or money. It’s practical. It may not be strong enough for bass strings but in your pickup wiring it’s an excellent conductor, almost as good as copper, with no corrosion. Reliable when you need to deliver that big sound.” Roy mimed striking a bass riff.

“And you can use it for art. Gold leaf. The problem is it’s so expensive people are afraid to use it. They hoard it. That’s a real waste.”

“Isn’t it unusual,” said Sami, “prospecting in the snow?”“It’s peaceful,” said Roy. “Peaceful is hard to find. We both

understand that. When you spend your weekends up on stage, everybody’s amp full blast and five hundred dancers going crazy in front of you, silence starts to feel exotic. Strange. Valuable.”

“I’m going to have to imagine how it feels on stage,” Sami said.“Some of the best of us move to a different beat,” Roy said.“Good to see you,” said Sami. “I should let you get back to

work.”“Not so fast,” said Roy. “I’ve got something for you. I remember

when you gave me good advice. You had a good eye. Best of all, you didn’t want the gold for yourself. Here. Take a look at this.”

Sami did a short schuss to the stream bank and stepped out of hisbindings. He took a sip from his thermos and offered Roy a drink. They both admired the scenery. Roy unzipped the top of his jacket and took a pouch from an inside pocket.

“I told you I’d keep something for you if you helped me find

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gold,” Roy said. From the pouch he took a nugget about the diameterof a dime. “It’s less than an ounce,” he said, “but it’s more than a half. Keep it in case you get into trouble. In most of the world it should pay for a place to stay along with your meals.”

Sami weighed the nugget in his hand. “It’s polished by the water.”

“Like jewellery,” said Roy. “It could be a good gift for the right person.”

“Thank you,” Sami said.On the weekend Sami patrolled closer to the old mine. The lake

was a problem because along the far shore it was mostly flat, ideal for cross-country. The ski club had built a cabin there and it became more popular as the winter progressed.

The lake itself froze and people skied across it. Most winters someone went through the ice and drowned. It was important not to be that person.

One day Velen was ahead following the tracks when Sami looked back. The tracks looked mushy considering how cold it was.

“It looks like there’s water in our tracks,” said Sami. “What doesthat mean?”

“It means we ski faster,” said Velen, and they did.

The parts for the tokamak were all installed, the major tune-up was done and the testing was getting serious. Perfecting the harmonics was key and the scientists worked together like musiciansin a symphony.

Paul still wanted nuclear pre-heating but for the time being he kept his mouth shut, giving the alternative a chance to fail.

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Esme was the team leader. She hoped that extra magnets at the tube ends would mirror the plasma. The housing was vanadium steelalloy to take advantage of vanadium’s neutron capture but her chief advantage was that she’d been able to run a three-dimensional modelof the plasma path on the big mainframe. All the adjustments had been made. It was time to throw the switch.

“The computer says it won't quite work,” Meg said to Sami, “butwe're counting on quantum tunneling.” Kal nodded.

As the electrical current began to build, the liquid hydrogen pump accelerated to cool the transformer. This was ordinary hydrogen, not an isotope, so it was cheap. Hydrogen’s reactivity compared to helium wasn’t a significant disadvantage, certainly compared to the importance of minimizing the number of neutrons.

The hydrogen isotopes, a mix of deuterium and tritium, were moving now, pulled from magnet to magnet, rubbing against each other, getting beyond hot. Everyone was watching the housing, looking for the start of a glow, any indicator that the metal was starting to melt or, almost certainly, vaporize.

Esme was staring at the two big voltmeters, input and output. So far there wasn’t much to see. Input was steady. Output was nothing. Amperage climbed but the output was still nothing.

And then the needle moved. There was no doubt. It didn’t creep up. It jumped. It didn’t go high. It held steady, barely one per cent ofthe input voltage, but it was there.

“We have fusion,” said Esme, and she smiled.The room went wild. All the scientists were grinning. Some of

them even shook hands.Meg was less restrained. She hugged Kallik. She hugged Sami.

She stepped toward Esme and hesitated. Esme hugged her.

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In the doorway Janis and Velen stood together. Esme noticed Janis and turned off the switch.

“No sense wasting fuel,” she said.

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Chapter 19

The next few days were spent analyzing the results. The technicians were in general agreement that the process was predictable. They did it twice more and got up to two per cent of the input power.

Janis was pleased. Nonetheless she was aware that a business plan returning two per cent while consuming one hundred per cent ofequally valuable input energy wasn’t sustainable.

Esme’s theory was that the magnets could squeeze the plasma a lot harder before it went out of control. It was a matter of fine tuning. Kallik thought it would be interesting to try.

He volunteered to clean the tiles with helium, blowing away any lingering ions. It took him all day and most of the night but the resultwas over four seconds of plasma beam confinement. That was enough for three megawatts of neutral beam heating. The continuing problem was that they burned about a hundred megawatts of hydro power to get there.

Meg was spending her working hours staring at spectroscope lines. She walked back and forth along the racks of equipment, comparing one figure to another. Plasmas are inherently unstable, so there’s a probability virtual particles can come into existence along with their anti-matter equivalents, which would create unwanted energy. Sure enough, the longer the tokamak ran the more unwanted lines the spectrograph showed.

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Esme had to put it all together. Part of the efficiency came from the superconductivity of the magnets. Theoretically the ideal alloy for the winding wires was niobium-tin. Tin was common; niobium, less so. The good news was that it was mined in Quebec, where the refinery could deliver rolls of wire. That meant niobium didn’t need to be imported. Nuclear power plants used it, so there was some scrutiny, but it was also a research material. Allowing for a couple ofintermediate steps, superconducting niobium was available.

Meg decided to take a break. She brightened when she saw Sami.

“Coming in to warm up?” she said.“Everything’s quiet outside. It’s a good chance for me to learn

how things work.”“That shouldn’t take long, since right now they don’t. Actually

I’m just dealing with a temporary frustration. We’ll get past it. Whatdo you know about spin?”

“It’s a continuous change in angle as opposed to motion in a straight line. Angular velocity.”

“I need to sit down. Do you want a coffee? I can bounce ideas off you.”

Sami watched her hair move as she turned. He could discuss rotation to spend time with her.

“Did you do arithmetic drills in primary school?,” she asked. “Speed quizzes on multiplication tables?”

“I did. It was fun, like a race.”“I wish I’d done the same thing with trigonometry,” Meg said. Sami thought back to primary school. “When I do sines and

cosines I have to work them out instead of knowing the answer

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without thinking. Or else I could have memorized square roots to derive the sines. Remembering trigonometry from one to forty-five degrees means thinking faster.”

“For the work here we use radians,” Meg said.Sami wasn’t used to radians. He stuck to what he knew. “Sine

thirty degrees is point five. Sine forty-five degrees is point 7071. Thesine of fifteen degrees is point 2588. Start there and interpolate.”

“Not accurate enough,” Meg said.“Use a calculator,” Sami said.“That’s even slower,” said Meg. Sami hesitated to say more. The

rest of the visit was spent with Meg thinking out loud about the molecular behaviour of alloys.

Later that same afternoon Janis asked Sami to come and see her. Velen was with her. Sami wondered whether, now that success was at hand, he was no longer needed.

“Have you ever been to China?” Janis opened an atlas and turned it toward Sami.

“No.”“I’m not talking about the big rivers or along the coast where all

the people live. I’m talking about the mountains here, in the west. You probably know that Deng Xiaoping is industrializing. He needs steel and this is where the iron mines are.”

“I thought Deng was purged during the Cultural Revolution.”“He was,” Janis said. “Mao was afraid of a nuclear war with

Russia. He thought capitalists in China would use that to regain power. Any students who didn't become Red Guards were sent to thecountry so peasants could teach them to dig wells and slaughter pigs.But now Mao is dead.”

“You're saying Deng is a capitalist?”

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“No. Far from it. But he does believe in business and China has a lot of catching up to do. Being a student is now a good thing. Industry outranks subsistence farming. China is going to modernize. That means the borders have opened a crack. Officials have their doubts about scientists but engineers are welcome.”

“How can you have engineers without scientists?” Sami asked.“I know,” Janis shrugged. “You're right. It doesn’t make sense.

But that's not our problem.”“Something else has happened,” Velen said. “Along with all the

other business activity the opium trade is picking up.”“I'll get to that,” said Janis. “Right now furnacemen are judging

smelter temperature by subtle differences in flame colour. Considering they've been doing it that way since the first emperor united China two thousand years ago they're surprisingly accurate. Mao used it as a proof of ancient superiority. ‘Qin bricks and Han tiles.’ That said, it's nowhere near as accurate as modern temperaturegauges. Steel quality suffers as a result.”

“China is still isolated,” Velen said. “When our university got the inquiry from Changsha the engineer apologized for the delay. The post office didn't know how to send his letter because the clerk had never seen an address outside of China.”

“It's surprising that remark made it past security,” Janis said. “Maybe he got a censor with a sense of humour.”

“Maybe letting it through is the message,” Velen said. “Things are opening up. They're saying that we can trust them now.”

“I wouldn't go that far,” said Janis.“I agree,” said Velen, “but they're ready to do business. We

should meet them halfway. We know a little bit about metallurgy,

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more than eyeballing flame colours. We can work with engineers there. It's an introduction. If we can make them successful that's a good thing.”

“I know a little bit about smelting lead,” Sami said. “I don't know anything about steel.”

“We’re not interested in the steel but we are interested in the vanadium,” Janis said. “What’s happening here in this old Rossland mine is more than just a scientific experiment. We want this to be an industry. We want to manufacture fusion plants. We need to assemble them which means we need parts fabricators which means we need a source of raw materials. I’d like you two to get that process started.”

“You’re talking about Communist China. Until just a few years ago the border was impassable. How will we get there?”

“Fly direct. I’ve managed to arrange an industrial exchange visit.Four Chinese metallurgists are coming here. You two go there. Moreof them, so they get the better deal. Things always go smoothly when the other side gets the better deal.

“I’m not expecting either of you to be a chemist. We’ll show youhow to recognize vanadium and test its purity but mainly the plant operators and the Communist party officials will be expecting you tolook at the business argument. What’s the cost? How’s the quality? Can they meet demand?”

“Considering that neither of us speaks Mandarin,” said Velen, “I don’t think the technical questions will get too complicated. I spent years working in the Trail smelter, which is the biggest non-ferrous refinery in the world, so I have a few anecdotes. I’m counting on thatto make an impression.”

Sami had a few anecdotes about the smelter himself. It was hard

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to ignore the industry that had dominated his life since childhood. “How long will we be there and when will we leave?”

Velen answered. “Including travel, ten days is about right ― long enough to learn something but not long enough for it to be a vacation.”

“Your departure date,” said Janis, “is determined by your real reason for going.”

“We think this is an opportunity to sell more marijuana,” said Velen. “A lot more.”

“Velen tells me that truckload you took up to Fort MacMurray ismass market grade, mainly leaves. We believe your friends also havea premium crop, mainly flowers. That’s where the resin is so the effect is stronger. If the price we can get justifies shipping by air, and if China has some high-paid technicians willing to pay for a recreational luxury, we certainly could use the money.”

“It’s winter,” Sami said. “No one’s harvesting anything.”“We don’t start with bulk delivery. Like any sales VP you’ll take

some samples. Once you’ve settled on a local distributer you can work out a shipping schedule. Even if everything is as smooth and easy as possible, next fall after the harvest is the soonest we would deliver a significant quantity. This is China. They take time to decidethings. They’re famous for saying it’s too early to judge the historical influence of the French revolution.”

“One last thing,” said Velen. “When you’re talking to your friends don’t drop any hint about where their crop might end up. They can’t confess to what they don’t know.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” said Sami.“Some of them are Americans.”

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“Draft dodgers.”“They’re still Americans,” said Velen. “Americans are funny

about Communism. They have a dogmatic aversion to China. Your friends grew up in the most religious country in the world. Personally they may not care. You could be right. You probably are. But why take the risk?”

“Right. Okay. Actually what I’m trying to say is that I won’t talkabout it because I don’t like talking about business. Get it done. Get it over with. Move on to something less boring. You’re right. Flying drugs into China and selling them under the nose of Communist officials who execute more people than any other country in the world. It could be risky. I appreciate that.”

Velen turned to Janis. “See. I told you he’d understand.”

The first order of business was getting back out to see Peter and Diana. Even though Hallowe’en was getting close, down in the valley it still hadn’t snowed.

Sami took the road bike. It was long-pants weather. He wore a light sweater with a jacket in the bag if he needed it, and lined gloves.

The trees were bare now, which made the wind stronger. That could be a good thing. Along the Columbia River he had a tail wind most of the way which also kept the Castlegar pulp mill smell away from him. He loved the feeling of spinning in a big gear, like being mounted on a powerful animal.

Peter was chopping wood. He was glad to take a break. They went inside for tea and cookies. Diana was happy to show Sami plans for a major home renovation in the spring.

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The idea that more money could be available was well-received. It would be better to do something now instead of getting too close to Christmas. Diana particularly liked the idea of choosing the most desirable strain of cannabis from their circle of growers.

“It’s the kind of competition the neighbours around us really enjoy,” said Peter. “This is why they move here.”

“I really like the cookies,” said Sami. “They’re just regular cookies, right?”

Diana smiled and nodded and said, “I’m glad you like them. Don’t worry. I intend to protect you. We both do. Just so you’re sure, you should appreciate we’re grateful to you and we’re not the only ones. You don’t smoke. Different, but also good. I truly dig it.”

“If I thought you were being pure just so you could ride faster,” said Peter, “I might not be sympathetic because too much competition isn’t a good thing. But I saw you when you were here and you had a really bad reaction. It’s like a medical thing. So don’t worry. If you react to these cookies it’s entirely the sugar.”

“I like sugar,” said Sami.“Too much sugar is bad for you,” said Diana. She laughed.

“Probably worse than marijuana. Well, maybe not for you.”“We all have our indulgences,” said Peter. “If you want me to

find the very best we can grow here you should give me a week. I have to visit people, spend time with them. Ten days might be better.”

“Let’s do it right,” said Sami. “I’ll come back in two weeks.”“I intend to give this my best effort,” said Peter.“Yeah, right,” said Diana. “Can I help?”“Of course. It’s all about teamwork,” said Peter. “Teamwork and

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networking. No micromanaging bosses. We’re starting a real business here. We might as well start using the jargon.”

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Chapter 20

Velen was happy to wait two weeks. He had his own preparations to worry about. The first task, if they were going to be mining professionals, was to dress the part.

“We need two outfits for travelling. We need work clothes and we need something we can wear to a formal dinner. We need steel-toed boots and we need dress shoes.”

“What about my bike clothes?”“Okay, three outfits. But you need a suit. We are both going to

get fitted for suits, something that looks right for a business meeting.I appreciate that we might not get world-class fabrics here in town but we can get Italian shoes. That should give us a bit of flash.”

“I don’t know anything about suits.”“You don’t have to. Janis will be coming with us. The kind of

money we should spend on this, she wants to be there personally.”The tailor, like the shoe store manager, was Italian and, if the

fabric was less than world-class, Sami couldn’t tell. It was smooth with a subtle shimmer. It caressed his fingers.

“You’re a strong young man,” the tailor said. He turned to Janis. “Do you want it fitted to the body, or a more flowing look?”

“First of all we want to be practical,” she said. “Imagine he’s justgotten out of the taxi, he’s grabbed his bag and he’s running for the plane. What would be the best suit?”

“Not too tight. He’s got to be able to move in it. But not so loose

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it catches the wind. I think he can run pretty fast. Okay. Now I knowhow to cut it.” Janis smiled and went to look at neckties.

Velen’s suit was darker. The tailor pulled and pinned and adjusted, and told them to come back in three days.

With their new suits and some product samples from Peter they were ready to depart. The turboprop took them from Castlegar to Vancouver. From there a jet flew the great circle to Hong Kong.

Altogether the trip took twenty hours, plus an added day for crossing the International Date Line. Also it perfectly reversed day and night. They spent three days in Hong Kong, mostly sleeping andtrying to get used to the crowds.

Their guide arrived on the fourth day. He spoke Mandarin and Cantonese, and asked if Janis was still teaching business English to the Chinese import/export entrepreneurs. He was impressed to hear that now, with a business of her own, she was so successful she no longer had time to teach.

Velen had all the necessary tickets and documents, but some of the expenses could not be prepaid. Once they got off the ferry in Guangdong a young Communist would meet them to help with any formalities. It would be good if the guide could give him a gift. Velen understood, and had brought some suitable gifts to represent Canadian industry, colourful minerals without significant cash value.If any money changed hands it would be done by the guide. Corruption was very bad. Punishment was severe. Velen understood.

All went smoothly. Under the watchful eye of the Communist cadre customs inspection was efficient but very quick, and they didn’t check the guide who carried Velen’s bag. From the ferry to

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the airport traffic parted for their black government Buick. It took another hour and a quarter to fly to Changsha.

So far it had been a silent trip with a few pleasantries, a short statement of purpose, and a lot of smiling and nodding. The Changsha engineers were different, somehow familiar. They seemedto Sami like small town people though the city itself was huge. The taller one stepped forward with his arms outstretched.

“Welcome, visitors from the land of Dr. Norman Bethune,” he said, and hugged Velen who, after a moment of surprise, hugged back. Then the tall engineer bowed to the young Communist and shook his hand vigorously.

“He thanks him for bringing you here,” said the guide.The thin engineer was younger. He bowed to Sami and offered

his hand tentatively. Sami bowed back, took it and shook it. Then they turned together to watch the older men.

“The man with Velen is also a party member,” said the guide to Sami.

“I’m not yet,” said the younger engineer, “but I work hard.”“Your English is very good,” said Sami. “I’m sorry I don’t speak

your language.”“You’ll learn a few words,” said the guide. “If necessary you can

say ‘Ngóh m̀hsìk góng gwóngdùngwá’. It’s a polite way of saying ‘I can’t speak Chinese.’”

“In Cantonese,” said the young engineer.“I’m an idiot,” said the guide. “In Mandarin it’s ‘Wǒ

tīngbùdǒng.’”“Many people here speak Cantonese,” said the young engineer.

“A lot of the businesses use Cantonese. If you’re with an official you

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should speak Mandarin.”“I think it’s best for me just to listen,” said Sami.“That’s the way to look wise,” said the young engineer. “I’m

Chen Liu. My mentor is Hu Chiang. You can call me Liu.”They all turned to listen to what the tall engineer was saying to

Velen.“We scheduled your visit so you can see how we re-brick one of

our furnaces. That’s the most reliable thing to schedule. Usually at least one among all the furnaces needs its bricks replaced.”

“It’s the same with us,” said Velen. “It’s like washing the windows on the outside of a big apartment complex. The moment you finish you start again at the beginning.”

“Exactly. I understand. But this time is different because we are transitioning to alloy steel. At first it was enough for us just to make our own steel, common carbon steel, but now we need metal to do different things.”

“And that means you need different bricks,” said Velen. “To make your new steel you have to have a basic furnace.”

Sami tried not to look puzzled, unlike the interpreter who obviously assumed the old furnaces were as basic as function and tradition allowed.

“When I say ‘basic refractory bricks’,” Velen continued, “I don’tmean ‘common’ or ‘ordinary’. I mean basic in the sense of neutralizing acidity. That’s always an issue in non-ferrous refining. Impurities in the slag will dissolve standard silica firebricks.”

Chiang, the older engineer, nodded. “With normal steel refining we start to see metallic iron at 1250 degrees Celsius and the bricks are good past 1600 degrees. We do get some liquification which is part of the reason the brick has to be replaced regularly, but now that

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we’re also going to be controlling high-temperature acid we believe it’s helpful to talk to colleagues who have long experience dealing with such a situation.”

“We will help in any way that we can,” said Velen.“But first,” said the older engineer, “you’ve had a long trip. We

should get something to eat. After that, if you like, we’d be pleased to show you our beautiful countryside. I understand you also live in the mountains.” He nodded to the young engineer.

“A few years ago this visit would not have been possible,” said Liu. “In the city this would not be possible. But you are colleagues and the two of us are both loyal to the Party. A good relationship is the only way to progress. We had ten years of mistrust and it almost destroyed China. Now everyone accepts that it’s better for us to make certain decisions on our own since, as our ancestors used to say, “The emperor is far away and the mountains are high.”

“The mountains are also high where we come from,” said Velen,“but I always feel like our emperor keeps a pretty close eye on us.”

“Here too. That’s why it’s good to be loyal. But we must also be effective.”

“It helps to have money for a few extras,” said Velen.“We can talk about that while we hike,” said Chiang.The Buick had departed with the Communist cadre so they set

out in an old but well-maintained Lada. It got them out of town onto the highway til they reached the path up the mountain. The landscape was drier than Sami had expected. The young engineer explained that mountain ranges to the west were some of the driest country in the world. Here it was the rivers, not the oceans, that determined the climate.

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Past Donglingba it got steep. In places rocks were stacked to form a staircase, worn from centuries of passing feet, or else ropes were stretched to give a handhold so they could pull themselves up. They crossed flat stretches where wind and rain had eroded rocks into arches.

After that they climbed a long winding path until the valley was spread out beneath them. Far below was the village where they’d started walking and beyond that the city, with the highway and the river and the smoke. They paused for a moment to enjoy the view. Then they walked into the forest and went back in time.

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Chapter 21

In fact it was not so different from being back in the Kootenays: a hiking trail, trees thinning out with the altitude, undergrowth sparse and yellow from the lack of rain. Wherever there was a view it was unbroken wilderness, hills and forest stretching off into the distance. It didn’t feel like the most populous country on earth.

When they reached the next plateau they found a meadow ending in a vertical drop of a thousand feet. Well back from the cliff the land rose up steeply to protect the meadow from strong winds. What was different here was that instead of a rough miner’s cabin there was a village of stone houses.

Liu, the young engineer, led them through the outskirts along what elsewhere would be the main street ― here a wider path ― to asolid house with a large vegetable garden. He knocked and waited. Ayoung woman answered.

She smiled at Liu, then glanced at his companions.“My grandfather is away,” she said.“We didn’t see him on the path,” he answered. The translator

repeated the exchange for Velen and Sami.“He left this morning,” she said. “My brother is here. He can talk

to you. Are these the Canadians?”“Yes.”“I thought they would be fatter,” she said. The translator giggled.

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“Don’t translate that. It’s good that they’re not. Are they tired?”“Not as much as I expected,” said Liu.“Come. We’ll find my brother.”They walked through the garden to another house with a window

toward the view and the door toward the path coming into the village. She knocked on the door. She knocked again. She went to the window and peered in, and knocked on that and waved her hands. Her brother came to the door. He was wearing large headphones.

“My new electrostatics,” he yelled. Sami figured he must have the music really loud. “No hiss at all. It’s like listening to music in outer space.”

His sister pointed to the visitors. He took off his headphones andbowed slightly, first to the young engineer, then to Velen and the others each in turn.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I knew you were coming.”“I admire someone who appreciates music,” Velen said. He

stepped forward and offered his hand. The brother shook it. Velen bowed slightly.

“You must all be hungry,” the sister said. When the translator repeated her words everyone nodded.

“Come,” she said, and they all went back to the grandfather’s house.

It was a splendid lunch with pork as well as chicken and a variety of vegetables Sami didn’t recognize. Everything was chopped, and sizzled, and they had noodles instead of the rice Sami had learned to expect at every meal.

The house was fitted stone with some modern touches. The inside walls were wood, made with lumber carried up from the

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valley. The grandfather was a carpenter. Being a labourer meant he survived the Cultural Revolution but his daughter and her husband, both teachers, were not so lucky. The granddaughter, Kai, and grandson, Gao, were taken by the grandparents to learn to be working people, not intellectuals, though they ended up being both.

Gao, so proud of his new headphones, was the technician. He hooked up the radio to catch the latest music along with a scanner to check whether he was being detected. He recorded what he liked andkept his listening random.

Though officially both of them were peasants, Kai was primarilya teacher and a reader, especially between the lines. Now that Mao’s widow, Jiang Qing, was gone, in jail under sentence of death, the newspapers had news again, particularly since tourism was increasingly important. Ancient villages were recognized as a touristattraction which meant that villagers had to be prepared for the strange ways of foreigners.

Sami looked around the kitchen. There were a few differences. Instead of pots and pans hanging by the stove he saw a variety of woks and a stack of bamboo steamers. Over by the door was a bicycle.

Sami stood up to get a better look at it. It had a sprung saddle, a chain guard, fenders, a rack and upright handlebars. The brakes werestrange. Underneath the handlebar a solid rod connected the two brake grips. Instead of a cable the brake bar connected to a thinner spring-loaded rod ending in a stirrup that pulled pads up against the rim.

“Is this a Pigeon?” he asked. His question was translated. Yes. AFlying Pigeon.

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“Where do you ride?”“Up here we don’t ride. We use it like a wheelbarrow to move

big things. If I have a long trip in the valley I’ll carry it down the mountain and ride where I need to go,” said Gao.

“Would you let me ride it?” asked Sami.“Of course.”They went outside. Sami felt good being back on a bike. It was

heavy but in the mountains that was a good thing. He tried moving his weight back and lifting the front wheel off the ground. It was easier than with his ten-speed. He tried maneuvering around some trees at the edge of the forest. It handled well. He rode back.

“Nice bike,” he said. “When did you get it?”“I don’t know,” said Gao. “It’s grandfather’s. It was here when

we came.”“You’ve taken good care of it,” Sami said. He was rewarded

with a smile from Kai.“Thank you for the splendid lunch,” said the young engineer.

“Now we should explain why we came, and see if you can help us. Should we go back to your house?” he said to Gao.

“I’ll stay here,” Kai said. “Grandfather will be back soon.”“Thank you for all your help,” said the young engineer.They went back to Gao’s house, which turned out to be as

different from his grandfather’s as Carnaby Street is from a cattle ranch. There were dayglo posters, and big speakers, and a rotating lamp. The bulb’s heat rose through a vane at the top so that images of fish on the moving shade swam around the walls of the room.

“I needed alternating current for the stereo,” said Gao. “I have a generator.”

“It’s a quiet one,” said Velen.

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“It is,” said Gao. “You get what you pay for. Now, I understand you have some marijuana you want me to sample.”

That’s what he did. He offered to share but Sami and Velen and the young engineer preferred to trust his judgement. He rolled a jointfrom the first package and smoked it down to the end. He turned the LP over on the turntable.

“This is really very good,” he said. “Most of what we get is fromPakistan or Lebanon and it’s okay, but this is definitely better. Do you mind if I go get my friend? I wouldn’t want him to miss out.”

The young engineer must have looked hesitant because Gao continued quickly. “I’ve known him all my life. I’m sure he already knows you’re here. This is a village. Everyone knows everything that happens. I really trust his sense of taste.”

“He’s right about villages,” said Velen to Liu.“All right,” said Liu. “But just this one friend.”Soon Gao and his friend Ho were rolling joints from the

remaining samples, discussing music and showing every sign of enjoying themselves. They didn’t rush things. They smoked one joint from each of the five samples: three for Gao, two for Ho.

“No more, man,” said Ho. “Wow. That is good stuff.”“Not too harsh,” said Gao.“Consistent,” said Ho.“Your English is really good,” said Sami. He couldn’t

understand anyone speaking Chinese but they were understanding him all the time.

“We listen to the radio,” said Ho.“We like to get to know people before we try talking their

language,” said Gao.

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“I’m very happy to know you,” said Ho.“I could recommend this,” said Gao. “I could sell it.”“Does this mean we have a deal?” said Velen.“It does,” said Liu.“Good,” said Velen. “I’m going to step outside before I get a

contact high.” Sami watched him go. Velen stood for a moment in the doorway, looking right and left, seeing the farm animals.

“I’m glad you like it,” said Sami. “The people who grow this areserious about their plants. First and foremost they grow it for themselves.”

“Are you sure you don’t want a puff?” said Gao.“Some things are best left to young people,” said Velen, and he

bowed and went out the door toward the pigs.“I can’t,” said Sami. “I tried. It makes me pass out. But I like

listening to the music.”“My sister can’t smoke either,” said Gao. “I don’t know why.

It’s never bothered me. Different people, different pleasures. Nothing wrong with that.”

A glass shattered on a shelf above the sink. Light shone through a new hole in the door. There was a sound like an axe biting into a tree.

Out of the corner of his eye Velen saw a movement, a flash. He froze. He felt rather than saw the bullet pass his nose where his head would have been. He dropped like he’d been shot.

Gao moved right and Ho moved left. As fast as Ho was at the window, Gao moved beside the door and pulled it open. He saw Velen lying beside the pigpen. Then Velen rolled behind the low stone wall at one end of the pen. He pointed toward the trailhead.

Gao took a quick look. He stepped over to grab a heavy sandbag

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beside the stove and threw it across the doorway.“Nobody on this side,” said Ho. He quickly checked out small

windows at the ends of the house.Gao got Sami to help him toss five more sandbags onto the pile.

There were two more shots and bullets thumped into the back wall but no more glasses were broken. Then Gao unlocked a long trunk behind the couch and took out a sturdy metal tripod. He put it behindthe sandbags. Next he lifted up a heavy machine gun and clicked it onto the support.

Velen was staying low. A bullet ricocheted off the wall above him.

“We can’t let them keep shooting,” said Gao. “They might hit a pig.”

“I’ll take a look outside,” said Ho. He grabbed a rifle and went out the back door.

“Do the rest of you know how to shoot?” asked Gao.“I was in the army,” said Liu. “Isn’t that an M70 ― a

Browning?”“I don’t know what it’s called,” said Gao. “It’s grandfather’s. He

was with Mao on the Long March. If you know the gun were you trained to fire it?”

“No. I was always an officer. I had a pistol.”“Look in the trunk. There’s a 9mm automatic. How about the

rest of you?”“I can use a rifle,” said the interpreter.“We had .22s,” said Sami, “but just for shooting at trees.”“Okay,” said Gao to the interpreter, “you take the other rifle and

follow Ho. Do what he says. Go where he tells you to go.”

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“You,” he said to Sami, “take the .32. It’s the revolver. It doesn’thave a safety so keep your finger away from the trigger until you’re ready to shoot. Can you get to your friend?”

Sami moved to where he could see Velen. He didn’t look hurt. He was crawling backwards very slowly, keeping his face towards the hidden gunmen.

“I can,” said Sami. “Why are they shooting at us?”“They’re not shooting at me,” said Gao. “They’re shooting at

your friend, and at you as soon as they get the chance. They’re your competition. Someone told them we might start buying from you, which means we’d be buying less or nothing from them. We’ve beengood customers. Obviously they hate to lose us.”

“If they kill us they get to keep your business,” said Sami.“It’s not that simple,” said Gao. “You’re offering a better

product. I believe in the customer’s right to choose. Besides, if they can force me to buy from them, what’s to stop them from taking my money and giving me nothing? It would be like dealing with gangsters.”

“What do you want me to do?” said Liu.“Watch the back.” Liu took his position on the side of the big

window. People were staying inside. The view across the valley was beautiful.

“Your friend looks like he’s getting away on his own,” said Gao to Sami. “Stay with me. I need someone to hand me ammunition.” He showed Sami how to lock a cartridge belt onto the machine gun. Then he pulled the trigger.

The roar chattered off the stone walls and filled the house. Bullets shredded leaves. Branches clipped off a couple of small shrubs beside the path. Sami noticed that Gao concentrated his fire

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uphill from the shooters.It took about thirty seconds to exhaust the first belt. Gao slapped

in a second belt and went through that, encouraging his target to shiftgradually down the slope. He touched his finger to the barrel. It was hot. With a screwdriver he pushed in a spring-loaded button on the housing and yanked the gun barrel out the back, sliding in a new barrel until it clicked into place. Sami handed him a new ammunition belt. Gao fired half of it. Then he changed to five shot bursts.

“I don’t want them getting into the rocks,” said Gao. “If they get in there they can snipe at us all afternoon. They might hide there overnight and start shooting again in the morning. We’ve got to make them go away.”

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Chapter 22

“You’ve got to kill them,” said the young engineer.Gao was surprised. “Why?” he asked.“They’ll talk. If you stop buying from them they’ve got nothing

to lose. They didn’t get this far without a few influential contacts. No one does. If they can get rid of us they might hope that business would go back to what it was.”

“I already said I don’t like being told what to buy. But it won’t be easy to stop them. They’re dug in at the only trail out of here. With a rear guard pinning us down they can sneak away any time.”

“You said you were keeping them out of the rocks. Can you force them away from the trailhead? Maybe one of us can sneak pastand get below them.”

Liu checked his watch. “Chiang should be down at the bottom already,” he said. “He’s finished work now. He said he’d meet us. But he won’t know who they are.”

Sami saw Velen standing inside the back door. He didn’t know how long he’d been there. The last Sami remembered, Velen was lying on the ground being shot at. He must have moved when everyone was concentrating on the exchange of gunfire. As soon as no one was looking he became invisible.

Sami watched Gao fire an extended burst across the trailhead, putting the last bullets low to spark some flying gravel. Gao looked around and saw Velen.

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“Could you see how many there are?” Gao asked.“Three, plus at least one more,” said Velen. “I saw them come

up the trail. They caught me looking at them. The moment I noticed them someone in the bushes fired his gun. That’s when I dove for the pigpen. After that they spread out, judging by the muzzle flashes,but not far.”

“Can you get past them?” asked Gao.“I’m quick but I’m old,” said Velen. “I’m not going to outrun

anybody. Sami might get past them.“Is that right?” said Gao.“It depends if I can borrow the Flying Pigeon,” said Sami.“Are you saying you’re going to ride a bicycle down that trail?”

said Gao.“Where we come from he does it all the time,” said Velen. “Of

course it’s his own bike and it’s built for mountains.”“Your grandfather’s bike feels really solid,” said Sami. “That’s

the most important thing. The tricky part is it’s only got a front brakebut if I keep my weight back that could be okay. But you’re right about the trail. It’s rough. What if I break your grandfather’s bike?”

“Don’t worry about the bike! He’ll buy a new one. We have millions of them. Hundreds of millions. Mao said every self-reliant Chinese family had to have three things: a wristwatch, a sewing machine and a Flying Pigeon. You’re really going to ride a bicycle down that trail? You’re crazy!” and Gao slapped Sami’s raised hand.

Liu thought for a moment. “It’s a dramatic idea,” said the young engineer, “but won’t he get shot while he’s riding toward our attackers?”

“We’ve got to distract them. But first we’ve got to move them

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away from the trail toward the cliff. Ho!”Ho appeared at the back door.Gao took control. “Can you two get above them, work your way

up into the rocks? I don’t want them shooting down at us and I also don’t want them heading back down the trail. We’ll try to move them over toward the cliff. Also, and this is important, we’re past thepoint where the main thing is to stop them from killing our new friends. All of us will now be trying to kill each other. We’ve got ourown little war going on.”

“If I get the chance you want me to kill them,” said Ho. “You shouldn’t count on it. I’m still pretty stoned.”

“Mainly I don’t want them to kill you,” said Gao. “Either of you.But yes. If you get a clear shot make it count.”

“None of them gets away,” said Liu. “They’ll talk. It would be bad for all of us.”

“This man,” said Gao, waving toward Sami, “is going to ride Grandfather’s bicycle down the trail to get ahead of them in case they try to leave, or if they have a friend hiking down to get help.”

“A bicycle?” said Ho.“He’s crazy,” said Gao.“Were you in a circus?” said Ho.“Not like in a circus,” said Velen. “Faster.”“Okay,” said Gao. “Go see my sister, see if she’ll let you have

the bike. By the time you get back here we should all be in place.”Sami headed out the back door, keeping Gao’s house between

him and the shooters. He had to cross an opening but he ran fast and didn’t hear a shot.

It took Sami a while to explain everything to Kai. Mainly she wanted to know that her brother was okay. They checked the Pigeon

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and made sure the brakes were good. Once he was confident Sami rode out. With his adrenalin pumping it was a quick trip back to Gao’s house.

“Are you still ready to do this?” asked Gao.“He has to do it,” said Liu. “”For your plan to work he has to get

to the highway first.”Sami wasn’t ready but he didn’t see who else could go. There

were no other vehicles, and downhill he could ride faster than anyone could run. If the shooters weren’t close to the trail he wouldn’t need to be too reckless. He could keep everything under control.

“Have the bad guys moved away from the trail?”“We’ve got three of them over near the cliff. They’ve been

popping up to take shots but Ho’s got them pinned down. I think they know what we’re planning to do,” said Gao. “They know you’re offering us better pot.”

“Can they do anything about it?”“They aren’t fools. This isn’t the first business dispute they’ve

had to work their way through. They’re used to winning. They’re waiting for one of us to make a run for the trail. They’re probably more worried about Ho than they are about us.”

“Can they see me when I’m on the uphill side of the house?”“I don’t think so. Not now.”“What message do you want me to deliver exactly?”“I’ve written it down,” said the young engineer. “Hand it to

Chiang. What it says is we have competition from the former suppliers and they’re trying to kill you. That’s enough information for him to make his decision.”

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Sami put the note in his pocket. He put the revolver in the back of his shirt. The shirt had a long back so when he tucked it in tight hewas confident the gun wouldn’t shake loose.

“It’s good the kids at school were all trying to kill me while I was growing up,” he said to Velen. “Good practice for the adult world of work.”

“Mainly I learned about explosives,” said Velen. “That’s not going to help us here.”

“Remember me to Meg and Kal,” said Sami.“Tell them yourself.”Sami bowed to the group, took a good look at the trail he had to

get to, and stepped down hard with all his weight on the left pedal. By the time his right foot was in place he was pulling up on the handlebars like they were a barbell, delivering as much force as he could to the rear wheel. He heard Gao open up with the machine gun. Then he was past the end of the house with nothing but open field between him and the trail.

Now that he was in the open Sami looked right and saw a man crouching beside a rock. He had a gun, not a bolt action, maybe a small assault rifle. Sami was going full speed and the steps down thetrail were three seconds away. It was too long.

He saw the man start to bring his weapon around. He heard Ho yell. He swerved to offer a smaller target but it was hopeless. He metthe man’s eyes: the calm face of a careful man who’d done this before.

Ho’s yell and Sami’s body language were enough for Gao to concentrate the fire from his big machine gun on the rock, sending chips flying. The rock was just big enough to protect the shooter but still he winced, and that was enough. The lip of the first step was ten

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feet away. Sami hit the brake hard, went over the edge and started bouncing down the rocky stairs.

His technique was to release the brake, knees and elbows bent, stay off the saddle and keep his eyes focused on the bottom where the jaw-rattling vibration would end.

He could see a straight runout for maybe fifteen feet. He had to use a little brake before he turned. Now it was simply a matter of hitting the roots at right angles or, where they crossed, at the apex of the root intersection. He kept his weight back whenever the descents got steep.

It wasn’t all downhill. With only one gear he had to stand to climb. In a couple of places he walked and pushed. Still it was mostly downhill, fast, and soon he’d put enough forest between him and the village that the intermittent gunfire was faint.

Now there was only one possible problem, and that was if a messenger had gone ahead. Even so it was very unlikely that the enemy would expect a bicycle careening down the trail after him. Still anyone hiking away from a gunfight would be wary.

The walker, the imaginary walker, might have his ears open for amotorcycle engine. He’d know there were no phones but short wave radio was a possibility so he’d be watching for trouble ahead. Carrierpigeons were old-fashioned but anything was possible.

The way Sami figured it, his job was to look and his theoretical opponent’s job was to listen. That made Sami a little slower but not much.

Not only that, he estimated he was getting to the point that a good hiker could reach if he’d left right when the shooting started. Once past that, Sami should have a clean run to the bottom.

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He could see sunlight ahead. That would be a clearing. It looked flat. He decided to build up some speed to get across the slow part a little quicker. That’s why he was well out into the open when he sawthe man in front of him.

They were both surprised. Not only had Sami been on a smooth high-speed descent but a creek was rippling loudly enough to mask random sounds. It did not however mask the sound of a Pigeon brakejammed on hard.

The man turned toward Sami. He was young. He had another one of those little assault rifles on his shoulder. Sami still had a good-sized tree for cover and two smaller ones an arm’s length away. The young man was in the open. He turned and ran.

Sami felt the weight of the revolver in the back of his shirt. He had time to pull it out and take a shot. He might get lucky. He didn’t want to waste time in a shoot-out.

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Chapter 23

And now it was too late, because his enemy had reached the rocks where the trail began a series of switchbacks descending a cliff. To get past him now Sami would have to get above him, creeping from tree to tree and rock to rock, without giving the more powerful weapon a clear shot. It would take time. The advantage of speed would be lost. If he took too long another enemy might catch him from behind.

Sami was confident about his ability to sneak through forest but he hadn’t wanted a gunfight before and he didn’t want one now.

He retreated back into the forest and set the bike on the ground so he could get a look downhill. The trail had four switchbacks, so that translated into five long stretches while it worked its way back and forth, each leg of the route roughly the width of the meadow.

Five chances for his enemy to strafe him. He remembered the man at the top of the trail, the look on his face. If they could kill him they would. The bottom of the path was directly below him. That was the first good news.

The next good news was at the bottom the trail curved to go straight across a wide ravine before heading up the other side.

He could see bent grass where a mountaineer or an exceptionallyambitious hiker had climbed directly up to where he was lying now. That must have taken a while.

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The less good news was that the mountainside below Sami dropped down about two hundred feet and, while it wasn’t a vertical cliffside, it was about as steep as a ski jump. Once he started going down he wouldn’t be able to turn and he certainly wouldn’t be able to stop. If he fell on the way down his body was going to tumble all the way to the bottom.

He imagined how it would feel if the descent went perfectly. He studied all the rocks near the chute. There was just one big boulder sticking up off to the right of the route he intended to take, far enough away that he’d have to fall, bounce and roll before he’d hit it, and by then other injuries would make that last impact irrelevant.

He looked for bushes that might catch a wheel or a pedal. He didn’t see any. It looked like the only thing that was able to grow on this slope was wild grass, and what there was of that was short clumps.

His enemy was ahead on the main trail, dug in, waiting for him. It wasn’t a hard decision to make.

As he moved, committing to the irreversible moment, his mind was absolutely clear. He had a couple of seconds of not going fast but he certainly felt himself going down. He was up on the pedals with his hands loose to keep his wrists from being numbed by the vibration. When a bump twisted the front wheel he felt the saddle hitthe inside of his thigh. Otherwise he had no contact with the saddle, doing his best to stay well above it.

He was plummeting now, bouncing over anything in front of him, hoping it was small, keeping his eyes on the runout. As the slope lessened he leaned toward the slight curve he had to make, not too fast, not too early.

Then he bounced over the edge of the path and blended into it,

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holding his speed on the packed surface until he was back into the trees. No one was going to catch him now.

The rest of the trip was uneventful, the kind of ride he’d done a hundred times. He had more stairs to rattle down, roots and rocks to bump over, but after twenty minutes he was at the bottom. Waiting for him was the older engineer.

If Chiang was surprised he didn’t show it. He waved from wherehe was leaning against his car, straightened up and walked toward Sami. Sami swung his leg over the saddle and did a rolling dismount.

“Where are the others?” said Chiang. “I guess they sent you ahead. Did you come all the way down on that Pigeon?”

“I did,” said Sami. “It’s a well-built bicycle.”“It’s solid. They all are. The work they do, they have to be. How

long til everyone gets here?”“I have a message for you,” said Sami. He pulled the piece of

paper from his pocket. Somehow it was stuck in his head that he had to read it aloud. He unfolded the paper and looked at it. It made no sense to him. It was in Chinese.

“Here it is,” he said. He handed it to Chiang.The older engineer read the message carefully. He read it again.

The he went to the back of his car and opened the trunk.“How many of them are there?” he asked.”How many were

shooting at you?”“Four up at the village and one more that I passed on the trail.”“That’s five for certain. There could be more. I haven’t seen

anybody waiting down here. They could have come in those two trucks over there. I was wondering about those trucks. Villagers

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around here mainly walk. They use carts. Trucks are expensive.”He lifted another belt-fed machine gun out of his trunk: this one

newer, oiled and polished. It looked like the bullets in the belt were bigger. Chiang found a good protected spot, partly concealed, off theside of the path.

“You stay behind the car,” he said to Sami. “Behind the engine block. It’s your best protection. Use this.” He gave Sami a Thompson submachine gun with a round clip, just like the old bootleggers used.

“My father took it from a Nationalist,” he said.“How do I make it work?” asked Sami.Chiang looked surprised. “There’s a lever above the trigger on

the left. Forward means the safety’s on. To fire pull the safety back and squeeze the trigger. Aim low. The barrel rises. Use short bursts.”

“I’ve never fired anything bigger than a .22,” said Sami.“Canada must be a very safe country.”That hadn’t always been Sami’s experience but now wasn’t the

time to discuss politics. “In some ways,” he said.Chiang unlatched and lifted off the distributer caps on the two

trucks so he could remove the rotors. Then they settled into their defensive positions.

They didn’t have to wait long. Because he knew what he was looking for, Sami was the first one to spot the young man who’d been ahead of him on the trail.

Instead of coming out into the open the young man scouted the perimeter until he was in a guard position. He still hadn’t seen Sami or Chiang but he knew they were probably there and he had to be ready.

Fifteen minutes later the other attackers arrived, spread out in

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single file, moving down the path at a fast walk. Their sentry gave a bird call, apparently an “all clear” signal, because the others came out of the trees and headed straight to the trucks.

Crouched down Sami kept his feet lined up behind the center of the front wheel of his car and watched them as long as he could through the driver’s outside mirror. He knew if he could see them they could see him so he tried not to move. No one was coming toward him. Then the leader moved beyond the mirror’s coverage and Sami had to rely on his ears.

He heard the truck door open. He heard the key go into the ignition and then he heard an exotic but unmistakeable curse so loud he almost jumped.. It was followed by absolute silence, as if everyone had stopped breathing. Then there was a short sentence in a language Sami didn’t understand.

At that point Chiang opened up with the machine gun. In the silence the racket was deafening. It lasted ten seconds, enough time to spit out two hundred bullets. Sami got his own gun above the hood of the car but immediately he saw he had become completely unnecessary. He didn’t pull the trigger.

The sentry had begun walking to the trucks before they realized the first engine wouldn’t start. He was already down.

The three men in the open were torn apart by bullets, still moving from the impact as Chiang shifted his target to the near truckpassenger door. He’d angled his tripod so the engine couldn’t protectthe truck driver. He stitched the door from top to bottom, side to side, and then let go of the trigger.

“Cover me,” he said, and then “If you have to shoot that thing, make sure you don’t hit me.”

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He had an assault rifle now. He ran to the truck and pointed it through the shattered window. Then he stepped back without firing.

“We got them all,” he said.But he was wrong. A rifle bullet caught him high up and spun

him around before Sami heard the shot. The sound was muffled, back in the trees, Sami guessed, and far enough away that hitting anything with his Tommy gun would be pure luck.

He sprinted for the tripod-mounted machine gun and got there before he heard another shot. Now he had cover but the sniper knew where he was. Sami looked at the path, at the trees, looked for anything that didn’t belong. He had a wooden box full of cartridge belts but he didn’t like the idea of firing randomly into the forest. It felt irresponsible.

Now he saw movement. The man sprinted across a clearing between the trees. He was moving to flank Sami. Sami swung the gun around just ahead of him and pulled the trigger.

To his amazement the gun erupted in a cataclysm of noise, wild vibration and flame spitting out the barrel. The gunsight bucked but through it he could still see tall trees shake as bullets whacked into their trunks. He looked carefully. Then he saw the man leap to his feet and run again.

“Stop shooting.”It was a Canadian accent. It was Velen.That gave the sniper time to be fully concealed. Sami had a good

idea of where he was likely to be but he couldn’t identify anything human. All at once from behind a bush he saw a hand swing back like it was going to toss a softball; or a grenade.

Quickly the hand went back, kept going back, too far; then it vanished. Sami had finally managed to rotate the machine gun into

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position but he didn’t fire. He wasn’t sure what had just happened. There was an explosion off to the side of the bush, thirty feet away.

“Don’t shoot.” It was Velen again, standing up where the man with the grenade had been. “Is it just the two of you?”

“Just me,” said Sami. “Chiang’s been shot. But I don’t think he’sdead.”

“We’re coming out,” Velen said.The young engineer was with him. He and Velen bound

Chiang’s shoulder and helped him into the car.

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Chapter 24

At the hospital Liu got orderlies with a stretcher who wheeled Chiang straight into the hospital. They didn’t ask questions. Sami could see that the young engineer was used to being in charge.

After half an hour Liu came back. “They’ve stopped the bleeding. He’s sedated. It could have been a lot worse.”

“He’s pretty tough,” said Velen.“He is,” said Liu.“Did they ask you how it happened?”“Changsha is in Dao County. People here don’t ask questions.

This is where we had the Dao County Massacre.” Liu looked expectantly at Velen, then at Sami, only to get blank looks.

“You don’t know? We always assume the world knows about it. Everyone in China knows. Ten years ago we had the Cultural Revolution. The idea was to return power to the peasants and the workers by getting rid of landlords, rich peasants, counter-revolutionaries, anti-Communists and bad elements generally.

“In most of the country intellectuals were re-educated. Here, over two months, forty-five hundred people were killed. Forty-two hundred were executed. Three hundred, the most respected, were allowed to commit suicide. Before that we were a prosperous region with ambitious people. We are now again, but we’ve learned to keepquiet about it.”

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“Four thousand five hundred people?”“It was ten years ago. The people who led the Cultural

Revolution, the Gang of Four, have either been executed themselves or jailed. The students who did the killing have returned to the cities but the people who live here will always remember. I was born here. My grandfather and Chiang’s father fought on the Long March. People know that.”

“It’s a beautiful place to live.”“Chiang is an official. I will be. The doctor who’s treating

Chiang right was with me in the same university in the same year. Later on, after Chiang is well enough to go home, we’ll get together with the doctor for a drink and tell him what happened, most of whathappened, and that will be the end of it.”

“What about us?”“Of course you’ve been noticed. This isn’t the first time bandits

have attacked mining experts. They think all of us carry gold. Peoplehere will know we got rid of some robbers. That’s a good thing.”

Good thing I left the nugget at my mother’s, Sami thought to himself.

There was another day at the smelter, focusing on the downstream process once the liquid iron was tapped and redirected to add alloy elements. The young engineer was proud, talkative and enthusiastic about what had been accomplished. Sami looked at dialsand admired how big the furnaces were. Velen nodded frequently and looked wise.

Chiang’s treatment went so well he was out of the hospital in time to take them to the airport.

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Janis was happy to see them back. She gave Velen a big kiss, right in front of everybody. Sami got a smile from Meg and a companionable hug from Kal. Sami spent the next hour answering questions about alloys and the state of Chinese industry. Across the room Velen was doing the same with the senior staff.

After an hour Janis sent everyone back to work and took the two of them into her office. She handed a book to Velen. He looked at the title quizzically.

“That’s what I thought,” said Janis, “before I read it.”“If there’s anything here,” said Velen, “it sounds like we’ve been

going in the right direction.”Sami glanced at the book: The Tao of Physics.“Is it about China?” he asked.“Not exactly,” said Janis. “Our big problem is that we keep

getting small inaccuracies that make the plasma unstable, but never the same way twice. The way I read this, we’re being too rigid. It’s hard to get past the idea of tangible existence but the concept here is that electrons make matter solid the way a spinning propellor is a disc. We already knew that, obviously, because we’re dealing with a plasma; but what I didn’t know is that mysticism can be trained. He starts out by saying the map is not the territory.”

“Are you telling me you want us all to be mystics?” said Velen. “I grew up with that. I struggled to get away from it.”

“I’m not saying ‘all of us’,” said Janis. “I’m saying we’ve reached an impasse and I’m willing to try something new to get around it.”

Sami picked up the book. “May I?” Janis waved at him to go ahead.

She continued. “Let me try a brief summary. First, all science is

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approximate. Classical physics, for example, ignores friction but at the atomic level there are important electron combinations with atoms in adjacent substances. Second, electrons have to form standing waves to remain in an atom while simultaneously the nucleus is made up of protons and neutrons boiling violently. Third, and this is the useful part, quantum numbers are always integers or half-integers. What that says to me is that our problem could have a simple answer.”

“He says here that repeatability is essential to mystical training,”said Sami.

“That sounds like the Doukhobours,” said Velen. “We repeated everything.”

“I’m not talking about Doukhobours,” said Janis. “Doukhobours aren’t the only mystics, or even the best known. If we’d relied exclusively on Newtonian physics we never would have discovered electricity. What I’m saying is that we’ve been thinking about fusion, we’ve been staring at fusion and we’ve been working with fusion right here for the past three years. We almost certainly know things we aren’t conscious of. What we need is a way to get at them.”

“It says here Lao Tzu and Heraclitus used paradoxes to show change,” said Sami. “The smaller something is, the more energy it has. To be exact, shortening wavelengths increases energy and what we’re doing here is maximizing energy, except that we can’t observeit so we don’t know when we’ve done it.”

“We haven’t done that since we started here,” said Velen. “It’s never been tried.”

“I wasn’t thinking about paradoxes,” said Janis. “I was thinking

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about a vacation.”“Going straight at the problem gets us close but we’re not

getting that breakthrough,” said Velen. “We need more energy out than energy in.”

“Where?” said Sami.“Where what?” said Janis.“Where do we go on vacation?”“I imagined your gardening friends might have an idea,” said

Janis. “They have some extra money, thanks to us. They sound like people who’d buy experiences rather than things.”

“They like to go to concerts,” said Sami.“How about travel?” “I don’t know. Maybe.”This time Sami drove out to the Slocan Valley. It was too

conspicuous riding a bicycle forty miles over snowy roads. He took his mother’s car. It would also be too conspicuous in Velen’s truck and anyway that was in the barn back on the farm.

His mother was happy to have him home. She asked him how his studies were going. He explained photographic plate detection of subatomic particles but with his mother, as usual with casual scientists, a little physics went a long way. She accepted that analysis could be done at home just as well as in school. She believed anything to do with science had a good future.

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Chapter 25

The snow was coming down steadily and the plows were out. In places it was coming down so hard that Sami had to stay behind the plow. That was only during the early part of the drive when the snowwas too deep or blowing so hard he couldn’t see. Later on the Highways Department had everything under control. That would lastas long as the big trucks continued their plowing runs.

When Sami turned onto the entrance road for Peter and Diana it was lunch time, as they’d agreed. He had an antipasto his aunt had made, always a welcome gift.

Peter was up knocking icicles off the edge of the roof. “Good to see you,” he said. “Are you having a prosperous New Year?”

“It’s hard to say,” said Sami. “It’s still early.”“It’s been cold,” said Peter. “We had the pipes freeze. I had to

dig them up. We wrapped a heating cable around the new pipes before we buried them. It makes a big difference. They’re also deeper this time. Even with a backhoe from one of the neighbours, getting down through the frozen ground is a big job.”

While they ate they discussed the weather, and home maintenance, and neighbourhood issues. Sami was surprised how much he knew, growing up in the area, compared to Peter and Diana who’d moved in just a few years ago.

“We love living here,” said Diana. “The people, the land, nature;

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but we can’t quite get used to the cold. We know we can’t go back toArkansas. The draft board still has a warrant out for Peter and, now that we’ve lived here, we don’t really want to go back. But at least inArkansas pipes don’t freeze.”

“Peter told me about that,” said Sami.“We’re thinking about Mexico,” said Peter. “Not to move. Just a

vacation.” “We have friends who just came back from a little town on Lake

Chapala,” said Diana. “It’s popular with Canadians.”“We wondered if we’d pass for Canadian,” said Peter “with our

accents.”“I never really thought about it,” said Sami. “You don’t talk like

someone from the deep South. Around here the only accent that matters is Italian, which you’re not and never will be; but just because you’re not local doesn’t mean you’re not Canadian. They don’t talk about Lake Chapala on TV so it can’t be a big American destination. If it’s like you say I imagine not being Mexican is enough to pass for Canadian.”

“You should come along,” said Diana. “You’re a big part of the reason we can afford to go.”

“Funny you should say that,” said Sami. “The people I work with were just talking about getting away for a break. A retreat, I guess you’d call it.”

“I always thought of you as living off your distribution business,” said Diana. “I never thought of you as having a regular job.”

“What we do is more academic. It has to do with energy generation. Most of the work in this corner of the province is connected to primary industry. There wouldn’t be much population

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around here without the mining industry, and metal refining uses a lot of energy.”

“So you have a job with the smelter?” said Peter.“No. We do research but we’re not employed or even on

contract. If we’ve got the right idea we could make the smelter a lot more efficient, and we believe we’re right, but we might not be. When we work on our own we’re able to use things no one else wants.”

“So you’re recycling.”“It’s more like we’re scavenging parts for something that hasn’t

been built yet. I think of recycling as using worn-out material to manufacture something similar while doing less damage to nature. We want to make something new, something no one’s ever made.”

“I wondered if you were putting together money for some project. I knew you weren’t buying our crop, plus everything our neighbours can grow, for your personal consumption and you don’t live a luxurious lifestyle. Just the opposite.”

“None of us does,” said Sami. “We have costs. The work takes a variety of skills. The problem there is that different people can get on each other’s nerves. That’s why we need a break. I hadn’t thoughtabout Mexico.”

“It’s cheap. It’s close, at least compared to Spain or Hawaii.”“I don’t know,” said Sami. “I was thinking about the

Mediterranean. Greece or the south of France. Some of the top names in science are from Italy, plus its economy is oriented toward big industry. Most of the world’s construction cranes are made in Italy. Germany’s good with science. So is Russia.”

Diana looked doubtful. “This time of year I don’t think Russia is

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any warmer than here. Neither is Germany.”“Italy’s warm,” said Sami.“I can tell you’re not really planning a vacation,” said Diana.

“You’re just looking for a different place to work.”“What we really need is a new way of looking at things,” said

Sami, “and you’re right. It won’t come from working harder in the same old way. Is there anything new about Mexico? Don’t the songs call it old Mexico?”

“Guadalajara has a lot of different music,” said Peter. “It’s the home of mariachi. My dream is simply a couple of weeks away fromthe snow. But it doesn’t hurt to have good entertainment.”

“Isn’t mariachi where someone in the band plays a huge guitar? Isn’t that tourist music?”

“That’s what we intend to be. Tourists,” said Diana. “If you already know what’s new and what isn’t, then it can’t be new to you because you know it well enough to judge it. Besides, having a definition isn’t the same as having an experience. A picture isn’t a person. The map isn’t the territory. It’s hard to have fun when you’rebeing too literal.”

Sami heard Diana say the map isn’t the territory. He wondered how much she knew about science and mysticism.

“You have to forgive me for being too abstract. I’ve been reading about language and the nervous system ― general semantics,” she said, which was good, because Sami had barely managed to stop himself from asking Diana if she’d been reading about physics.

“I just want to kick back,” said Peter. “Get away from all the wind and snow. Pay the locals to take care of us. What’s the good of having money if you don’t spend it?”

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“Music is great. Don’t get me wrong,” said Sami, “and we’ve got some older people in our group. They might like mariachi.”

“I like mariachi,” said Diana. “Are you calling me old?”“It’s not about being old.” Sami backpedalled. “What I’ve been

asked to find is more like meditation, only deeper and more surprising.”

“And you want to do this without drugs?”“Drugs don’t work for me,” said Sami. “They just make me tired

and confused. Except coffee wakes me up but then I can’t concentrate. Everything I hear about drugs sounds really great. I wish I could get the same effect as other people, and I realize that means there’s probably something wrong with me, but I trust my senses and I’m sure that I personally am not going to find a new wayof thinking through drugs.”

“But travel might trigger this new way of thinking,” said Peter.“It might. I hope so,” said Sami.“I agree,” said Diana. “Travel opens your eyes like nothing else.

But you have to be the one to decide where to go. If you come to Lake Chapala we’ll be happy to see a familiar face, but if you go somewhere else we can all get together back here and compare notes. Whatever you decide will be the right decision.” Lying awake later that night, realizing that the final decision wouldn’t be his, Sami wondered if every decision would always be the right one. It was like the parallel universe theory where every possibility occurred but developments in the other universes would forever remain unknown to him in his own little universe. It was like solipsism. It led nowhere.

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Chapter 26

His mother was taking more of an interest in his studies. Maybe it was because in winter there was less talking over the garden fence with the neighbours.

That night she decided to make her mother-in-law’s spaghetti sauce. She started by browning a pound of pork shoulder in two tablespoons of olive oil, keeping the temperature medium so the oil wouldn’t smoke. Once the meat started looking good she added a can of tomato paste with two and a half cans of water, plus spices.

The preferred spices were two crushed garlic cloves; a tablespoon of parsley; teaspoons of basil, oregano and salt; a half teaspoon of pepper and rosemary; with one-eighth teaspoon of paprika and cayenne. While she measured Sami chopped a medium onion and opened one of her home-preserved jars of crushed tomatoes. Once that was all in the skillet his mother cooked it uncovered until thick, usually about fifteen minutes.

He used the big chef’s knife to chop the onion and oregano. The single most important tool for cooking was a good chef’s knife.

“Do you think what you’re studying will get you a job at the smelter, or are you planning to go into university teaching?” she asked.

“It’s hard to say,” said Sami. “It could be either. It could be both.

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It’s hard to say.”“The neighbours ask me about you. We’re all very proud of you,

ever since you were a child when you were so good at arithmetic, mathematics really. They ask me where you work, where your officeis and I tell them what Albert Einstein said.”

She put the lid on the skillet. The sauce would simmer now for atleast an hour, but not more than five. It was still early afternoon, lots of time til supper. The trick was to keep the sauce simmering without burning. Though it called for delicate judgement, it didn’t demand her full attention.

“You don’t think I know about Albert Einstein,” she smiled. “He’s part of the history we all lived through. For years he was the most famous person in the world. After the war ended everyone kept setting off bigger bombs: the Americans, the Russians. Tsar Bomba to this day is the biggest bomb ever detonated. The Americans named the bikini bathing suit after an atomic bomb test. All the schools wanted to find the next genius. IQ tests. They did that here. We found three. You remember. You were one of them.”

“I remember,” said Sami. “Everyone treated me weird, like a hero or a freak.”

“I know,” said his mother. “I was sorry about that but I didn’t really know what to do about it. I liked to think they meant well. Theone thing I could do was to read, to learn what I could. So did your father, before he died. You remember. We talked with you. He was very proud of you.”

“I didn’t know what to do,” said Sami. “I was told I could be anything I wanted. I had no idea what that might be. I also realize now that kind of advice can never be true.”

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She lifted the lid and looked at the sauce but she didn’t stir it. She tried not to stir the sauce while it was simmering though she stillused the spoon from time to time to see it wasn’t sticking to the bottom.

“The world is calmer now,” his mother said. “We haven’t had a war for twenty years, except for the Americans in Viet Nam. There were a few years where we all expected to look out the kitchen window and see a mushroom cloud, but I don’t feel like that today. There’s not the same sense of urgency. That’s why when you pick your career I don’t want you to feel you’re in a rush. The three of you living here, with a few other brilliant kids like you scattered across the country, were so little when we put the weight of the world on your shoulders. It should have made you crazy. Instead you’ve turned out to be a kind caring person, you’re smart, you’re active, you do different things. I don’t have any advice for you. When the neighbours ask me what you’re doing they still all sound so proud of you. I can tell by the way they ask, and I like that.”

Sami thought for a moment. “Wasn’t Albert Einstein’s office at Princeton University?”

“He was asked where his laboratory was,” his mother answered. “He raised his hand and tapped his forehead twice. His mind was hislaboratory. I might have the details wrong. Maybe he did have an office. What I’m trying to say is that, the way I see it, as long as you’re thinking you’re working. That’s not true for everybody but it’s true for you. Now’s your time to travel. Now’s your time to try out big ideas. There’ll be lots of time later to work out the details.”

Close to suppertime Sami helped his mother make the meatballs.He chopped a small onion into a bowl with two eggs and a pound of hamburger. She added a teaspoon each of parsley and salt to a

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heaping half cup of bread crumbs. Next was half a cup of grated cheese along with more spices: half a teaspoon each of basil, oregano and pepper. Once Sami had scrunched everything together and firmed the mixture into meatballs, his mother put them one by one carefully into the sauce. Now it was absolutely crucial not to stirthe sauce for an hour while everything matured into perfection.

There was one other trick reserved for special events. The water for the tomato sauce could be replaced with broth left over from roasting a turkey. If the meal wasn’t conveniently close to a turkey holiday, chicken broth would do in a pinch. Tonight that would be too elaborate. This was just an ordinary sauce by the standards of Sami’s grandmother, her daughter-in-law and now Sami himself.

“I miss Nonna,” Sami said. “She read stories to me. That’s how Igot a head start in school. Knowing how to read helped with arithmetic. It just went on from there.”

“Your grandmother loved reading to you. When young children lose a grandparent they don’t understand that death is permanent,” said his mother. “They can’t be expected to understand what it means to exterminate a species. Our own species.”

“I don’t think we’d be exterminated,” said Sami. “Bombed back to the Stone Age maybe. Not exterminated.”

“I’m not sure I could survive another Stone Age,” said his mother. “I like driving a car. I like central heating. We wouldn’t even be top predators. There’d be wolves and bears. We’d be scavengers. That was us in the Stone Age.”

“Scavengers keep things clean. They see nothing goes to waste.”“That does describe a lot of what I do,” laughed his mother, “but

it’s not the ideal way I see myself.”

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“What I’m learning,” said Sami, “is abstract but it has practical uses. Start with the idea that, if you know every force acting on something, however hard to measure, then you can predict precisely what happens next.

“Now imagine a world where that’s not true, where identical causes lead to different outcomes, but only part of the time according to a predictable proportion. We know that’s how the subatomic world works. We suspect it may be how everything works.

“Any simple new way of explaining things will be original and itwill replace a prejudice we didn’t know we had. Look back to when zero was sacrilegious because God could never allow a void, with the disastrous economic outcome that no medieval Christian could balance business accounts. Or infinity, because mankind can’t comprehend eternity, except that we can’t do calculus without infinity. I need to be able to work with things that can’t be known and get the outcome close enough.”

“Your father did that,” said his mother. “Machines are never exact. At first you can make something work with a tolerance of an eighth of an inch. Then it’s a millimeter. Or a micron. I think some of the instruments he worked on had parts measured in nanometers.”

“You’re right,” said Sami. “I guess most new ideas are simply rediscovered. It’s still not obvious what they mean.”

“Some people want life to be easy,” said his mother. “That’s never been you. If it’s not hard it’s not worth doing. All I ask is you don’t make it impossible.”

“No. You’re right. I really believe what we’re doing is going to work,” said Sami. “I just don’t know how to explain it.”

“You don’t have to explain it to me,” said his mother. “I’m a

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gardener. You don’t have to spend long in a garden to understand that nothing is under control, yet everything you do matters. Randomcatastrophes? Even lucky breaks? That’s been routine for farmers formillenia, and during that time ninety per cent of us were farmers. That’s why people are so superstitious. It’s certainty that’s weird.”

“I must be ordinary,” said Sami, “because I’m completely uncertain.”

“Ordinary in the best possible way,” said his mother, and gave him a hug.

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Chapter 27

Janis liked the idea of Lake Chapala. Most of the team hated the idea of a vacation. Success was just around the corner, exactly wherefusion had been for the last half-century, but they wanted to keep after it. They were determined.

Janis asked Meg and Kal if they’d come. Kal said that as far as he was concerned going to the tropics wasn’t a vacation. He’d go if he had to but tropical heat was unnatural and he didn’t intend to apologize for that.

Meg on the other hand said that hot climates were the most natural for the most people; and if she could endure winter in the mountains of Canada then an Inuit should be able to endure sipping margaritas beside a Mexican lake..

Janis told Kal he didn’t have to come if he didn’t want to.The surprise was that Esme wanted to get away. Sami thought

she’d want to keep her hands on everything since she’d been driving the research team. Velen thought the same thing, but when he asked Esme she said she wanted to go for exactly the reason Janis made theproposal in the first place: they were all in a rut, and working hard would just make it deeper.

Velen estimated driving through the States would take a week but Janis said everybody was flying. There was a direct flight to Mexico City followed by a one-hour hop to Guadalajara. The first part of their trip would be a similar hour to get to either of the big

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Canadian airports. At the end of a long day they could be on a tropical beach.

Three days later that’s exactly what happened. A taxi took all five of them from the Guadalajara airport to Ajiji, a little town wheredotting is and js was time-consuming but no ts needed to be crossed. Sami thought it looked like Castlegar with palm trees.

He’d hoped to spend some time with Meg but the older women, Esme in particular, quickly took her under their wing. Soon the scientists got into lengthy abstract discussions. Sami wondered if he should get involved. He was starting to realize he’d just been pickingup bits and pieces of the project. He knew theoretically what was supposed to be happening but he really didn’t know in detail what had actually happened and he did know enough physics to understand that measurement determined reality.

For their part Janis and Velen seemed content to be a vacationing tourist couple. By lunchtime on the second day Velen could see Sami was at loose ends. He sent him out to rent a bike and explore the village.

The local rental bikes were predictably heavy and clunky. Instead Velen rented a car and drove with Sami into Guadalajara so they could see the big city. The tourist office was very helpful. Sami came away with a list of shops that rented or sold racing bikes.

It really didn’t matter. The rental rate for a good bike over a month amounted to the full price. Buying kept the paperwork simple, particularly if later on the bike got stolen, and Mexican prices were a little better than in Canada.

He looked into five stores before he settled on an Apollo ten-speed from a little hole-in-the-wall shop. The salesman, who looked

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like he rode a lot, pointed out that the horizontal set of brake levers was a gimmick and under no circumstances should Sami rely on them in an emergency. Apart from that, it was a good light durable bike. It cost three hundred and seventy-five dollars unless Sami preferred to pay in pesos which would translate into a slightly higherprice. Sami was welcome to take a ride around the block to see how he liked it. Velen agreed to wait.

Ten minutes later Sami was back to buy the bike, a helmet, a lock, a tire repair kit and a water bottle. The total came to four hundred and twenty dollars. The salesman threw in a heavy bell that sounded like a fire alarm. He said a loud bell was an important part of being Mexican.

That evening Sami rode around Ajiji. He’d expected a tropical jungle but this was dry and dusty, a lot like Castlegar. He felt at home even though the palms and the ferns were a novelty. Around him were exotic yellow-backed red-headed black and white striped birds. He rode up to the end of the lake and back. A couple of times he used the bell. It made everybody jump, including himself.

The next day he was up early. Guadalajara was fifty-four kilometers away. He planned to ride there, have lunch during the hotpart of the day, and then ride back in time for supper. He was in good shape from hiking through the snow but this was a chance to get his summer muscles back.

The first ten kilometers were mostly slow over cobbled roads with people wandering, turning suddenly, stepping into the street andopening car doors.

Once he’d passed the east end of the lake and turned north the highway divided into two well-paved lanes each way. The road had a good shoulder. There’d been a few other bicycle riders in town but

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now he was alone. Early on he saw another racing bike headed in theopposite direction. They nodded to each other.

He had a tail wind so he didn’t worry about getting into a crouch. He had his hands on the cross bar instead of down on the drops. He went hard for a couple of minutes, eased off to see how hefelt, and then repeated. He passed a sign saying “Guadalajara 24”. More than half way. He was doing well.

Cars had been going by, giving him room. Now he heard the hum of a different tire. There was a bicycle catching up to him. He glanced back.

He saw a blue jersey, blue helmet, hands bent low on the drops, legs spinning. Sami moved to the right to make room. The other rider came up beside him.

“You go fast,” Sami heard. It was the salesman from the bicycle shop.

“Not as fast as you,” said Sami.The local rider gestured at the Apollo. “How do you like it?”“It’s good. It’s solid. It doesn’t flex when I pedal hard.”“Well built. Ninety per cent as good as what I’m riding for less

than half the money. Can we slow down a bit? Just a bit. I’ve been working to catch you. Talking is hard.”

“Sorry,” said Sami. He eased off and slipped behind. They rode in line for a while without talking.

The passing cars were small but agile, getting close before they changed lanes. The trucks came up slowly. Sami moved left to get a bit of boost from the draft when the trucks passed. He glanced back whenever he heard that distinctive truck tire sound. He decided to buy a handlebar mirror for the trip back.

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To catch some of the wind from the traffic he was sitting up and that meant he wasn’t travelling top speed. Soon his companion pulled up beside him again.

“I’ve been drafting you,” he said. “Do you want me to go out front for a while?”

That’s what they did into Guadalajara, trading off every minute or so. In less than an hour they were making their way through city traffic. At a stop light the salesman turned to Sami.

“Where are you going?”“I haven’t decided. I just wanted to see the city.”“I know a place that has good coffee, if you’ve got time.”They sat at a patio table under an umbrella and the coffee was

exceptional. The salesman’s name was Jorge. “Call me George,” he said. He took every Wednesday off to ride. Sami hadn’t realized it was Wednesday.

Noon was approaching. Sami wondered if everything would stopfor a siesta but pedestrians continue to bustle about, just like every big city.

“I see a lot of bikes here,” said Sami. “Do people get out to do much road riding? What about off-road?”

“If you look over there, to the west, you see how the hills rise up. If you’re looking for trails that’s where they’d be. This side you see just a few trees but further back the rain collects on the inside slopes of old volcanoes. There’s a road that runs through there, not paved, compact dirt, with a few houses. It’s like the old days. The jungle isn’t thick so there might be trails. I’ve never really looked.”

“Have you ridden through there?”“I’ve ridden everywhere. It’s not as easy as the pavement but

working hard makes you strong. Do you want to go there?”

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“I do. The weather’s not as hot as I thought it would be.”“It’s hot. You said you’re from Canada. How hot does it get

there?”“Where we lived was almost desert, semi-arid on the climate

map. I remember helping my father build a stone wall when it was a hundred and five degrees. Of course that was late summer.”

Jorge looked at a big thermometer on the wall.“You’re right. Less than ninety degrees. By your standard it’s

not hot. I’ll come with you, but we won’t go fast. You can if you want.”

They stopped by the bike shop to get extra water bottles and a few tools. It took fifteen minutes to get across town. Traffic was light. Maybe siesta was more popular than Sami had thought.

The road was hard clay, one gear lower than Sami used on pavement. There were fewer cars but more pedestrians along with wagons and donkeys.

Farther from town, after they started to climb, they had the road to themselves, though occasionally they passed strong walkers. Jorgealways rang his bell early. Usually the walkers moved right without looking back.

Half an hour along Jorge saw a trail heading up the mountain. Sami would have missed it. Undergrowth lined the roadside but beyond it a path was visible.

“Is that what you’re looking for?” asked Jorge.“Where does it go?” said Sami.“I don’t know,” said Jorge. “This was your idea. I’m a road

rider. Do you do this in Canada?”“All the time,” said Sami.

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“Show me.”Sami looked again at the curve of the path. The opening should

come out just about where they were on the road. Did the vegetation grow that fast or was the opening concealed? There was only one way to find out.

“It’s thinner ahead,” said Sami. “I’ll carry my bike through. Once I’m on the path it should be easy to see where it goes. I’ll come back and tell you.”

“I’ll go with you,” said Jorge.To do less damage to the roadside plants, and because Sami

instinctively minimized any sign he’d been there, they left the road twenty feet apart. Jorge got to the path first and waited for Sami. It ran roughly parallel to the road and looked like it was used regularly.Sami saw how it worked its way around a rock outcropping. Once they got past that it turned and started to climb away from the road.

In the lowest gear riding wasn’t too hard. It was bumpy but therewasn’t a lot of loose rock. In places it got steep, but nothing they couldn’t handle by standing on the pedals. Finally the two of them reached a ridge where they stopped to catch their breath.

“This is the edge of the volcano,” said Jorge. “What used to be a volcano. We came up the lava slope. Inside will be steeper.”

“How do you know if you’ve never been here?” said Sami.“I have imagination. I think ahead,” said Jorge. “Not like some

people who rely on strength and endurance for everything. I’m joking. I’ve seen other volcanoes. Why would this be different?”

The trail followed the rim. As the sides became steeper the path got jagged, first like an irregular staircase and then a narrow bumpy ridge, sixty saw-toothed feet with a sheer drop on either side.

“This is for goats,” said Sami.

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“Or burros,” said Jorge.“This is as far off-road as I need to go,” said Sami.

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Chapter 28

But it wasn’t. For the next three days Sami rode from the lake upthe nearest mountain road, found trails and followed them higher. Sometimes he wondered if the route he was taking was supposed to be secret, if there’d be a trap or a snare he’d see too late, but nothing happened. Twice he passed hikers. He rang his bell. They stepped off the trail and waved.

It was different from riding in Canada. Branches with big broad leaves crowded in on the path. On the positive side there was less danger of overlooking a bare branch. With gentler slopes he could ride farther, and he did. He started to get a sense of the territory.

The rest of the team spent their days by the beach, enjoying the local cafés. Sami always got back for supper because when night fellit was like a light switch being turned off. Sami was used to a coupleof hours of twilight. Here it was minutes.

It was Esme who decided she had the breakthrough.“Have you been following chaos? I was reading about the Como

conference last summer. There was a paper on turbulence. Does that sound like the kind of problem we’ve been having?”

“When plasma pressure passes a certain point the wave breaks up,” said Meg.

“Actually an uncertain point,” said Esme. “We’ve been trying to smooth it out, but what if it’s supposed to be turbulent?”

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“You’re talking about weather systems,” said Meg. “Lorenz. Thebutterfly effect.They’re using huge computers to try to forecast the weather but they’re still not getting it right.”

“We have access to a huge computer,” said Velen. “Two of them.”

“I don’t think we need a huge computer,” said Esme. “I don’t think we need a long series of computer algorithms. I think we need the right simple idea.”

“Which is?” said Janis.Esme turned her hands up, momentarily defeated.“Half of the solution is asking the right question,” said Janis.They all turned back to look at the lake. It was placid, barely a

ripple. Sami picked up a flat rock and skipped it. It bounced a dozen times before it sank.

“Do you think,” said Meg, “that when water splashes the energy increases in consistent steps compared to the energy at rest?”

“The stone causes the splash,” said Esme.“The first splashes are bigger. Couldn’t that mean that the stone

energy dissipates but the water rate of transformation remains constant?”

“I don’t know,” said Esme. “Sami. Throw another stone.”By the time all of them were through arguing Sami’s arms were

tired. His coordination was gone. It reached the point where if a stone skipped twice he was doing well. Each splash was compared toevery other splash. Throughout all the arguing the lake beyond their little beach absorbed the ripples into nothingness.

In the morning Sami went riding again. There were two volcanicsummits. On the windward side it was jungle but on the lee side

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where they were the soil was baked hard with dry brush struggling togrip the soil. There was enough open ground that he could ride wherever he wanted, weaving through the bushes just like skiing through trees.

Thorns were a problem. He fixed three flats before he learned to recognize which plants were dangerous.

In the evening they sat by the lake again. There was less discussion and no rock throwing. When it got dark they walked up from the water to the main street and looked for a café.

There was a wide selection. Sami saw lively spots and others where it was possible to have a conversation. It was hard to decide. What finally settled things was that Velen and Janis wanted food now, and they were willing to pay for everybody.

They wanted something fancier than food cart tamales. Esme had a tortas sandwich: smoked turkey, avocado, chipotle chiles, Oaxacan cheese, deep fried beef and bitter greens. She pronounced itsubstantial. Meg had an octopus tostada. Sami was less adventurous. He had stew.

Janis wanted a steak. Mexican ranches were world-famous. Velen looked for anything with rice and beans. He got the most for the least but he said that was what he wanted.

Conversation was desultory. They were all talked out. While watching the passers-by Esme and Meg chatted about clothing. Samiwondered when, and if, they’d get the breakthrough that was the reason for the trip.

Velen nudged him and looked idly toward the street. Sami followed his gaze. He saw Peter and Diana. Sami watched as they looked in a window, strolled down the street and turned a corner. Velen nudged him again, more urgently this time.

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“I’ll be right back,” said Sami. The others glanced at him and went back to their conversation. He pushed back his chair to follow Peter and Diana.

He wondered if they might take a turn or go into a store but at the next corner there they were, halfway down the block, strolling.

He had time. He walked another short block, turned parallel to them, quickened his pace, made two more turns and was now walking toward them, looking into windows himself, part of the passing parade.

Diana saw him first. She did a double-take, poked Peter and pointed. Sami turned, gave a surprised look, a big smile and walked over to them. Hugs were exchanged.

“Are you here alone?” asked Diana.“No, there’s a group of us. You know Velen. I don’t think you

know the others.”“That’s okay,” said Peter. “We’re visiting people here we’ve

known for quite a while. It’s good to see you. We should get together. How long are you here?”

“Another week, I think.” Sami looked around. There was a café across the street. “I should get back to my friends, but I could meet you for lunch tomorrow.” He indicated the café. “Have you been there?”

“No,” said Diana, “but we like trying new things. Noon tomorrow?”

“Noon tomorrow,” Sami said. He waved and walked back to his colleagues.

In his absence the talk had become technical.“What we need,” said Esme, “isn’t more Maxwell equations. It’s

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as simple as set theory. We need an idea, a Boolean set, that’s big enough to include the plasma and the naturally interfering waves andthe effect on the tiles. We need one idea that takes everything into account. We have to be inclusive.”

“You’re saying there’s something beyond the equations,” said Meg. “You’re contradicting some smart people. The orthodoxy at my university was that going beyond the numbers was like believingin witchcraft.”

“We have to do the calculations. Of course we do. But that hasn’t been enough. There has to be more.”

“And you think that the missing part has to be statistical,” said Meg. “It’s consistent. Quantum effects are statistical. We already know the machinery we’re working with has layers of variables, more variables than any imaginable computer could calculate over the duration of the universe.”

“Unless we find a simpler way to ask the question,” said Esme.“Getting machines to work isn’t a matter of calculation,” said

Velen. “Maybe that’s where it starts, in the design, but making an actual working machine is a matter of nudges and substitutions and sudden insights. Watch how Kal works.”

“I know,” said Esme. “Every way of thinking is arbitrary. Kurt Goedel. What we need here is the sudden insight. No one doubts quantum theory. For half a century no one’s tried to change the fundamental theory because it always works, as far as that goes.”

“What we need,” said Janis, “and what we now have, are a seriesof results, lots of results. As Werner Heisenberg is fond of saying, we learn from failure. We’ve had lots of failures but they’re near failures. We’re close. We have good data. We just have to decide what it means.”

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Meg had been listening. Now she spoke. “We don’t need a big computer doing a complex combination of mathematical calculations. We need a database.”

“We have a lot of data,” said Janis.“We need to analyze it,” said Meg. “We need our own computer

instead of booking time on the mainframes. They’ve started selling little computers for hobbyists. We should get one.”

“How much would it cost?” asked Janis.“We could get one for under two thousand dollars,” said Meg,

“and that includes the database program.”Janis looked at Velen. Velen looked at Sami.“I’ll see what we can do,” said Velen.

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Chapter 29

Next day Sami had a leisurely lunch with Diana and Peter, comparing notes on Mexico. Afterwards they walked along the shoreof Lake Chapala. Once they were some distance from the other tourists Peter lit a joint and passed it to Diana.

“Isn’t that risky?” said Sami. “Movies are always showing the horrors of Mexican jails.”

“Not as risky as in Canada. Here the authorities are realistic enough to recognize that this is a part of what makes tourism attractive,” said Peter. “Besides, who are you to worry about risk, riding your bike off cliffs?”

“Peter’s right,” said Diana. “Smoking here is no different than having a beer. The Americans make Mexico have prohibition, otherwise the international loans stop coming, but no one enforces anything.”

“Is it hard to buy?”“If you’re at all serious about smoking pot,” said Peter, “you

have to learn how to buy from strangers. There’s more to it than avoiding dealers wearing polished black shoes. You have to watch for a while before you make your move. You look for someone who’s getting repeat business. When you feel good you make your approach or, actually, you pass close enough so you can hear their offer. So far for me it’s worked out.”

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“Is this marijuana better than what you’re used to at home?” asked Sami.

“It’s okay,” said Peter. “It’s pretty good.”“Really it’s not,” said Diana. “We were talking about that the

other night. It’s strong enough, even a bit harsh, but it’s more physical. What we have back home is, if you’ll grant me an overusedterm, mellow. You see more. You think more.”

“If you like it so much did you bring some with you?”“Smuggle drugs across international borders? That does sound

risky.”“You had a direct flight,” said Sami. “You didn’t stop in the

United States. Besides, I don’t think anyone watches for people smuggling marijuana into Mexico.”

“As a matter of fact we did bring a few joints with us,” said Peter. “Not even an ounce. To tide us over til we found a supplier here.”

“I don’t suppose you have any left,” said Sami.“As it turned out we found a local supplier very quickly. The day

we arrived.”“If it’s okay I’d like to buy what you’ve got left,” said Sami,

“and I’d like to meet your dealer.”“You’re thinking you can sell down here,” said Peter.“Yes.”“The local trade is supposed to be controlled by some very bad

people.”“I’m sure if we’re nice to them they’ll be nice to us,” said Sami.“I wouldn’t want to do it,” said Peter.“Different people are good at different things,” said Sami. “I

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take your word about the quality. I have to trust my own judgement when it comes to marketing opportunities. You know I’m not doing this on my own. I’ve talked it over.”

“We’re going home in a couple of days. I’ll give you my stash.”“No, let me pay. I insist.”The next morning Sami and Peter were at the path to the lake, a

little distance from the young man Peter said was his dealer.“When you walk past he quietly says ‘Marijuana’” said Peter.Sami watched a few people go by. “He doesn’t say it to

everyone.”“He considers who might be interested.”“Would he say it to me?”“Definitely,” said Peter.After about half an hour Sami took a circular route away from

the beach so he could walk down past the dealer. “Marijuana,” said the dealer.“Marijuana,” said Sami. He smiled and gave what he hoped was

an appreciative nod.The young man glanced up the hill. There was another man

there, a little older.“Thanks,” said Sami, and walked back toward the second man.

When he got close the man indicated a nearby car. They both got in.“You want to buy marijuana?” said the man.“Actually I want to sell it,” said Sami.“Sell?”“Yes. The quality is exceptional. I think you could make a good

profit.”The man laughed. “Sell to me?”“Yes,” said Sami.

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“Okay. You have a sample?” Sami handed him two joints from Peter’s stash.

The dealer accepted them and gave him an appraising look. “This afternoon, two o’clock. We’ll talk then.”

“Thank you,” said Sami.“Don’t sell to anyone else.”“This is your town,” said Sami. “Well-managed, from what I can

see.”“You’re polite. Respectful. I like that. You really think this is

better than what we’re selling?”“That’s your decision,” said Sami.“Two o’clock.”Sami nodded and left.Sami went straight back to get Velen. They got a take-out lunch

and came back to watch where the car had been parked. “He expects you to be here early,” said Velen. “Maybe a quarter

to, unless he’s worried about something.”The young Mexican was still doing his retail trade on the path to

the beach. At twenty to two the distributor’s car did a tour around the block. Velen waited until it disappeared around the corner and then said, “Let’s go.”

They strolled over to the meeting place. Exactly at two the car returned. Sami and Velen walked around to the driver’s side. The distributor rolled down his window.

“This is my friend,” said Sami.“That’s okay,” said the driver. “I also have asked friends to

come along.”“Teamwork is good.”

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“Get in,” said the driver. “We’ll go where we can talk.”Sami got in the front with the driver. Velen was tucked into the

back between the other two. The driver worked his way through town and got onto the highway, heading north.

“How did you like it?” asked Sami.“It was okay. Different. Actually it was good. If your price is

right we could do business.”“That’s good to hear,” said Sami.

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Chapter 30

They drove north out of town on the road Sami had cycled earlier with Jorge. It seemed shorter this time. There was a crossroadleading up into the mountains but they passed it, heading for the city.As they got close to the airport there were gas stations and convenience stores, then the first traffic light.

Truck traffic was heavy. They worked their way through a heavyindustrial area into the city, the second biggest in Mexico. The buildings got bigger and more expensive, but further on little stores got older and cheap and run-down. Now they drove slowly, turning onto smaller streets.

Sami hadn’t come quite this far on his bike but almost, and he had a good idea where he was. No one was being secretive. Sami wondered if that was a good thing.

He’d been expecting a movie-style meeting in an old abandoned warehouse but instead they were driving past crowds of tourists, a self-assured part of the local economy, snapping pictures of a 16th century cathedral.

The Mexicans in the car ignored it all. They continued past old houses, one of them a real mansion but boarded up, and turned into the alley. They parked at the back of the old mansion. The driver gestured at it proudly. He got out and unlocked the back door.

They walked through a big kitchen, empty except for a coffee

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pot on one of the stoves. Beyond the kitchen was an inner courtyard open to the sky. Sami could hear traffic outside but the sound was muffled by three stories of bedrooms rising up around him. It was anold vacant hotel.

The fountain still cascaded and there were deck chairs beside it. That’s where they all sat.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” said the driver.“Yes,” said Velen.“Fifty years ago this used to be the most popular place in

Mexico. Then the Depression came and the tourists stopped coming. How bad was the Depression in Canada?”

“Sawmills shut down,” said Velen. “Fishing boats bartered their catches. The Prairies had a drought. No more wheat, or at least not much.”

“The same thing happened to the fishing here. I remember trading for fish. Barter is bad. A cash economy is important,” said the driver. “It’s a shame to see a building like this going to waste. It should be a hotel again.”

“I’d like to come and stay here,” said Velen.“Good location. Colourful history. But location is really what

matters. Are you looking for real estate?”“Not right now,” Velen said. “You’ve got a spectacular place

here, but it should belong to someone who can do justice to its history. Just because I understand farming doesn’t make me a good hotel manager.”

“Getting back to agriculture, I don’t suppose you’d consider an exchange. I could trade you triple the weight.”

“We need money,” said Velen.“That’s okay,” said the driver. “As I said, I don’t like barter. Too

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clumsy. But I had to ask.”“How much would you want?” asked Velen.“We’d market it as a prestige product. It wouldn’t be our main

seller. If I could start with a hundred kilograms and see how it goes, I think we could do that.”

“Yes,” said the driver. “I can’t offer you triple price but I could pay a thousand dollars a kilogram.”

“Fifteen hundred,” said Velen.“Twelve hundred,” said the driver.“You have a deal,” said Velen.“I should warn you,” said the driver, “we are not the only

marijuana suppliers in this part of Mexico. We do a good business inthe city and the tourist towns but once you go out in the country into little villages people are crazy. Here we have police. Police are good for business. Things don’t get too wild, at least not all the time.”

“I would guess,” said Velen, “that much of your own local supply is grown out in the country.”

“You’re right.”“And if you have competition there, crazy competition, it must

threaten your supply.”“It doesn’t put us out of business, but it is an irritant.”“If I help you with this, will you give me my fifteen hundred?”The driver laughed. “Crazy Canadians. That’s what they call

your skiers, isn’t it? Okay, I’ll show you where our village gangstersare. If you can persuade them to live and let live, you’ll get your fifteen hundred.”

They drove north out of the city and turned west. The pavement

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was cracked and rutted from heavy trucks going over it on days when it was softened by the sun. After a while they turned north again, away from the tourists at the lake. That was on the other side of the volcanoes. The car was on dirt now, zigzagging up another ridge that was more like the mountains Sami knew back home. The passengers in the back were watching the roadside. Their guns were out.

“This is the way in,” said the driver. “The plantations are ahead, out of the way. We don’t need to go all the way there. Our harvest comes out along this road. Our competitors steal it. Sometimes they destroy it. It doesn’t matter which. The fields are small enough for us to guard them but this road is too long. Too many good spots for an ambush. Can you help?”

“How do they know when you’re ready to truck out the harvest?” asked Velen.

“I don’t know. We watch the road but we don’t see them. The only time that a car comes up the road that isn’t one of our cars is when they’re raiding us. Last time it was three cars: one in front, right behind it a pickup truck with a gunner standing on the truck bed aiming a heavy machine gun bolted onto the roof, and finally a bigger truck to carry away the crop. Our people were out-gunned. We fired a few shots. Then we ran.”

“If Sami and I look around can you tell your guards not to shoot us?”

“I can do that,” said the driver. “I think I can describe someone as strange-looking as the two of you.”

“Where do you buy your farm supplies?” asked Velen.“Most farmers use one of the three big stores out on the edge of

the city. Agriculture is the biggest industry in this state. What do you

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need?”“The right fertilizer is important,” said Velen.“Fertilizer?”“I need to pick it out myself,” Velen said. “How soon do you

think your enemies might make trouble?”“We’re harvesting now. Any time. Soon.”“Give me the names of the stores and get us back to the lake.

The day after tomorrow can you be at the same spot where we met today?”

“Ten o’clock.”“Ten in the morning the day after tomorrow.”

The next day Velen loaded the trunk of his rental car with chemical fertilizer from Canada. He also bought a few smaller items.After lunch he and Sami drove part way along the dirt road to the marijuana fields.

Sami brought his bike. Velen stopped at a spot on the road wherea nearby bluff gave a good vantage point. While Sami rode away up the road Velen sat and waited for the birds to get used to him.

The road was rough and Sami let a little air out of the tires so as not to skid on the gravel. He looked right and left, watching for any game trails crossing the road. Whenever he saw one he rode up it a little way to see whether it led anywhere. It took him less than an hour to discover the route to a viewpoint looking down on a couple of hectares of marijuana crop.

He didn’t see anyone else but at one spot he saw tire tracks in caked mud. Bicycle tracks. It made sense. Motorcycles were noisy.

By the time he got back Velen had made a good start breaking

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up the ground for holes along the road twenty feet apart. The soil was baked solid but both Velen and Sami were used to digging in and around hard rock. They knew how to swing a pickaxe.

Velen remembered stories about Stalin's big payroll robbery, chests of gold being brought in on the Czar's wagon to pay the Georgian army. It was guarded by mounted Cossacks in front, Cossacks on the heavy wagon and more Cossacks following on horseback. Once Stalin’s rebels tossed grenades that blew all the Cossacks to bits simultaneously, his gang transferred the gold into their own cart. That gold financed the Russian revolution. It also made Stalin Lenin's very good friend.

In the old days it wouldn’t have been such heavy work. Back in pre-revolutionary Russia the anarchists threw grenades, cherry bombs, at the Cossack wagons ― not the Doukhobours of course, they were long gone to Canada by then ― but to throw a grenade meant getting close and even then it might not do much against a truck. Velen knew his history but he knew science as well. He wasn’t afraid of hard work.

Before long they had three holes, each big enough for a couple of sacks of nitrogen fertilizer. Velen ran blasting wire back to his lookout. Each bag got its own wire colour. After the wires were trenched and buried Velen took care of the final preparation for the fertilizer. He carefully stuck blasting caps into the bags and wired them in. Once all that was done, it was time to cover over the fertilizer sacks and tidy up the holes.

By the end of the afternoon the rental car was empty except for tools and the road looked undisturbed. They scouted the area for any other observation points or paths. Sami paid extra attention to anywhere a bike could go that a car couldn’t.

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That night Esme and Meg got into a big argument. Esme wanted better control over the plasma stream. She’d been looking at particle spin experiments using calcite crystals. There were a series of tests of phase entanglement showing that changing the angle of the spin on one particle instantly changed the other particle no matter how farapart they were. It wasn’t limited by the speed of light. It was alwaysinstantaneous.

More generally, phase entanglement connected any two particlesthat had ever interacted. It was the only explanation for the way mercury light was diffracted by calcite crystals. Meg couldn’t see what that had to do with making plasma hotter.

“There is nothing that is not ultimately a quantum system,” said Esme.

“What you’re saying,” said Meg, “is that nothing is local. Something a galaxy away can and does influence our isotopes, but you’re not saying what we can do about it or even if we can measureit.”

“That might be what I’m saying but it’s not my main point. Believing we’re controlled by a universal force has been popular for centuries in philosophy and religion but it hasn’t been physics, at least not until now.”

“Are you saying this total abstraction will heat our tritium up to a hundred million degrees?” Meg was unconvinced.

“What isn’t abstract is that the experimental proof includes a couple of light switches,” said Esme, “switches that send the light first to one sensor and then to the other every tenth of a nanosecond. I realize we’re dealing with protons rather than photons but I wonder

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if light could be part of the solution. We need ignition. I wonder if we could use lasers.”

“We could if we pumped enough power into the laser,” said Meg, “but it’s the same problem we’ve always had. We put more energy in than we get back.”

“I think we could redistribute energy between different laser beams, using laser wavelength changes to affect the crossbeam transfer. That might get the reaction going,” said Esme.

“High intensity damages the mechanics of the laser generator,” Meg said.

“I know that,” said Esme. “I’ve worked through the math. What I think is that if we take a short-duration laser beam and stretch it out, spreading the energy over a longer time will lower the maximum power. Then the beam can be increased without melting any sensitive components. Once that’s done the amplified beam can be compressed back to its initial short duration.”

“Is that possible?” Meg said.“Check my figures,” Esme said. “I believe they’re right, and that

means it’s going to work.”Meg thought about it. “It would be like using a microphone to

record a loud sound as a milliamp signal and then boosting it with an amplifier back up to the original loud sound.”

“Plus the change in duration which adds another dimension to the calculations,” said Esme, “but yes. I know it sounds extreme but I think we could get a petawatt.”

“A million megawatts,” Meg said in awe.Sami left them arguing and went to bed.

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Velen and Sami drove back to the old abandoned hotel next morning at the appointed time. Their partners were waiting for them,but not to sit and talk. Today they had a harvest ready to come out. They wanted to hear that the work was not going to be interrupted.

“What time today?” said Velen.“It’s ready now. Are you coming with us?”“Better if your competition doesn’t know about us. We can be

tourists. We can be hikers. We won’t carry guns.”“If you won’t fight what good are you?”“Give us time to get into place,” Velen said. “Tell your people

not to shoot us. We can give you a real advantage. When you see it happening you’ll know. Your enemies won’t know. If it’s going to work they can’t know.”

“Four hours?”“Four hours should be more than enough.”Velen drove back to Ajiji to get binoculars, his water bottle, the

detonator and Sami’s bicycle.They left the car parked a little distance beyond the turnoff to the

dirt road, pointed back toward town. Velen hiked in while Sami rodeahead on his bicycle.

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Chapter 31

It was a warm day. Sami took it easy pedalling up the trail. Now that he knew where the lookout was, he could pace himself. Probably there’d be nobody there but he had to assume the opposite. If the competition was planning a raid they’d have someone doing observation and communication.

Velen left the road early, climbing to the ridge that led to his vantage point. There was less cover than he was used to, mostly waist-high brush. The good news was that walking was easy except for the trail ups and downs. Soon he was in position.

Sami saw the bicycle lying on the ground but he couldn’t see theman. It was an ordinary commuter bike, raised handlebars, rack on the back, nothing racy. Sami dismounted and walked his own bike. He wanted it with him in case he needed to leave in a hurry.

Velen found the wires from yesterday and clipped them into his detonator. He took his binoculars and scanned the road. It was still undisturbed, an ordinary stretch of bulldozed dirt. He found some shade beside a bush where he could look back toward town. He took a drink from his water bottle.

Sami skirted around the bicycle. He knew there was someone here. Just like moving closer to a bear Sami had to leave him a way to escape. Now Sami could see the lookout. He was a teenager, young, not as big as Sami. He was staring intently at the marijuana

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plantation. Sami followed his gaze down to the fields. There were two parked cars with men about to get into them, men Sami recognized, the men who were now in business with himself and Velen. The lookout bent down to get a walkie talkie. Sami picked upa twig and broke it.

The lookout froze, turned toward the sound and saw Sami. They were about thirty feet apart, a long pistol shot but not impossible. Sami’s bike was beside him in a little indentation in the ground where the lookout couldn’t see it. If the lookout went for his gun Sami would have to find room for himself in the same little hole. In the meantime he had to look like he was reaching for a gun himself.

The lookout ran. With impressive agility he snatched up his bike,took two steps to get it rolling and vaulted into the saddle. Since theywere starting at the viewpoint it was all downhill. The kid took the first corner fast and tight, weight off the saddle and on the inside foot. A talented rider. Sami picked up his own bike and gave chase.

Velen heard the convoy before he saw it. Coming around the corner the line of vehicles was compressed in the binoculars. It was as before: a scout car, a truck with a heavy machine gun bolted onto the cab and a big panel truck to carry away the hijacked crop. They were about three hundred feet from Velen.

Velen didn’t like explosions but he understood them. He was about to turn a solid into a gas that would expand to fill the space available. In most vehicles the floor under the driver was comparatively weak. Making it strong would make it heavy. The truck bed was thick metal and the car frame was solid but the passenger floor would tear apart and then gas molecules would collide with big bags of salt water, which is what people mostly are,

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the shock wave vibrating through the liquid which was the same as heating it. Most likely there’d be other solid particles, rocks from theroad along with anything loose in the car, adding to the kinetic chaos. It would be messy.

A couple of seconds later the front car slowed down. It wasn’t what Velen was expecting. The scout car moved to the side and the attack truck took the lead. Velen put down the binoculars and turned to look the other way up the road. Now he saw his colleagues, two cars, and if they kept coming he’d be blowing up everybody.

The two cars with the growers stopped. They started to turn around. The attack convoy kept coming, with impressive discipline staying in formation. The machine gunner aimed his weapon. It took another second for the vehicles to be above the fertilizer. Velen pressed the detonator.

The explosives went off in sequence, front to back. It all took less than a second. The machine gun truck rose into the air, rolling left to rotate into the smoke and flame. The passenger car was thrown the other way, toward Velen, crumpling and tearing with the force of the expanding gases. The transport truck was heavy enough that it simply rose into the air where it was, except that the sides of the box on the back bulged out, the back doors blew off, the windshield shattered, and the body of the truck rose off the wheels before collapsing straight down onto the road.

Up ahead the turning cars stopped. They waited, needing to be absolutely sure what they were seeing. In front of them a man crawled out of the blasted passenger car. Another fell out the back ofthe transport truck, pushed himself onto his feet and started to stagger away. Now the watching cars began to drive slowly toward the wreckage.

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Velen watched them shoot the two men and then walk around to the back of the transport truck. That was enough. He crawled away from the detonator, keeping low. Once he got below the far side of the ridge he stood up and walked back to his car. From time to time he heard another gunshot. He got to his car without seeing anyone and took an indirect route back to the lake. Sami would have to make his own way home.

At that moment getting home was not Sami’s main concern. The lookout was at least as reckless as he was himself, hardly ever touching the brakes while he descended. He also knew the trail a lot better. Even so, at one point he went airborne for ten feet, barely staying upright, landing on his front wheel, hitting so hard that his pistol was knocked out of his belt. In spite of the impact his feet stayed on the pedals and he kept going. Sami stopped to pick up the gun.

Even though doing that cost a couple of seconds Sami was catching up. He knew he’d descend faster because he was heavier. For a while that worked. Then the slope moderated and even had short uphill sections. On the level their strength was well-matched. The boy’s walkie talkie was crackling but he had no time to answer. It became a matter of endurance. Sami skidded on a couple of turns and lost time. The day was getting very hot.

Finally they reached the paved road. The lookout got down into a racing position and settled into a rhythm. He looked confident. He expected to be faster. He’d done this before.

He was low but he didn’t have drop bars. Sami did. Sami started to reel him in. It was slow work because they were both moving fast,forcing themselves through the thick air, but every few seconds

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when Sami looked up his quarry was a little bigger, a little closer.It was most of a minute before the young lookout glanced back.

What he saw wasn’t what he expected, what he’d been hoping for. He turned back to his pedalling, even picking up the speed a bit, but without the same confidence. Sami maintained his distance, waiting for the younger man to get tired.

Instead there was a high speed turn away from the pavement onto another trail. The young rider took a big bounce over the roadside ditch, a short climb through some tall trees and then he was out of sight over the ridge. It could be an ambush but Sami had the gun. He kept going.

Getting to the top Sami saw it was a fast downhill sweeping to the right but he didn’t need to worry about that because the lookout had skidded out, fallen hard and was now trying to disentangle his legs from the bike frame. He had some road rash but looked to be otherwise uninjured. That wasn’t his main concern. He knew he’d lost the gun.

The walkie talkie started crackling again. The lookout pulled it off his belt. Sami pulled out the gun and made a “no, no,” gesture with his other hand. The lookout tossed the walkie talkie away. Samishot it.

The lookout was really just a kid. He stopped struggling. He looked at Sami and waited. His face was expressionless but his eyes were focussed on Sami’s right hand. It was an easy shot, fifteen feet,and the lookout knew that the man facing him had already hit something small. There’d be time for a second and third shot if needed.

Sami stayed balanced for a short moment on top of the hill, long enough to see everything he needed to see. He turned away before

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the boy started to cry. Back at the road he turned toward the lake andgot up to cruising speed. Every so often he stopped, disassembled a part from the gun and tossed it into the bushes. By the time he got back to the lake the gun was gone.

The next morning they all went to the beach with the other vacationers. The street dealer was at his usual spot and his supplier was in the car nearby. He waved to Velen who went over to the car and chatted. Everything was good. The deal was on. The relationshipwas secure.

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Chapter 32

Late that night they flew out, non-stop into Vancouver, with a mid-morning connection to Castlegar. Velen’s brother was there, driving a big sedan that fitted everybody comfortably. Shortly after noon they were hiking up the trail to the lab and by late afternoon it was as if they’d never been away.

There was a party to welcome them back where the conversationwas about sun, scenery and food with a minimum of shop talk. That lasted for about an hour. Then Esme began explaining her laser theory.

It seemed to Sami that Paul wasn’t taking it that well, that his smile had become rigid and he wasn’t asking the usual sarcastic questions. Sami glanced at Janis, then at Velen, but their attention was on Esme. He looked around at the other people who hadn’t beenon the trip to Mexico. They were interested in what Esme was saying, but in an abstract way as if it was a distraction from what they’d been doing.

Sami looked over at Meg exactly at the moment she looked toward him. Neither of them knew what was going on, but Kal might, and now all three of their eyes met.

Kal walked over to refill his cup at the coffee pot on the table near the door. Sami did the same. After a moment Meg joined them.

“To heat the plasma we need to build a bigger laser,” said Esme,

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“but the principles are well-understood. It’s something we can do. And because the laser does one thing extremely well it simplifies ourmathematics. I believe it will work.”

“I understand the theory,” said Paul. “I appreciate lasers are well-tested on a small scale.”

“You’re right that lasers need to be a lot bigger,” said Esme, “and that’s not what we’ve been building. Here’s a more immediate opportunity. We may not be generating efficient fusion right now butwe’re creating a lot of neutrons. Fission depends on how many neutrons there are. The world is already using fission to make electricity. Why not make existing nuclear plants better? A lot better.”

It looked to Sami like Paul’s patience was starting to wear thin. “While you’ve been away we’ve been working on another idea, an older technology that’s the big effort right now in the United States. General Groves of the U.S. Army has committed the entire American fusion budget to this idea.”

“I didn’t come up with the neutron enrichment idea out of thin air,” Esme said. “Andrei Sakharov wrote about it years ago at the time he was moving from Russia’s missile program into peaceful nuclear technology, peaceful everything, moving toward his Nobel Prize. Hans Bethe wrote about using fusion to generate neutrons in the last Physics Today. It’s a practical idea.”

This time Paul didn’t bother to answer. He had something he was waiting to say. Now he said it.

“You know I worked on the American nuclear weapons program. I was employed by the American government. I was practically a bureaucrat, though you appreciate that’s not how I see

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myself personally.“Every accomplishment is an individual accomplishment. We

have a chance for progress because here we’re not being told what todo, because we have freedom to do whatever it takes for success. With all the money going into America’s fusion program we can stillbe first.”

Paul led them all out of the lunch room to the tokamak. Now, surrounding the intake port, there was a new metal room connected to the polished steel tokamak.

“It looks like a streamlined travel trailer,” Kal whispered. “With the door closed it’s airtight.”

“It doesn’t look like much,” Paul said, “but it’s lead-lined on the inside. It’s heavy enough to contain any stray particles. It’s solid.

“I realize the using fission in the pinch system was unstable but that was when the plasma was up to speed. This is pre-heating. The hydrogen ions get a head start.”

Sami had a good idea what he might find inside. He rememberedwhen Paul showed him the critical mass device. Meg walked around to the open access door. Kal and Sami followed.

“He’s got a Lady Godiva reactor to heat the plasma,” Meg said. “During the early research they gave it that name because it’s uncovered, unlike newer more efficient designs with the uranium inside beryllium tamping. When the parts come together the temperature rises two degrees every thousandth of a second. The theory is that extra heat accelerates the fusion reaction.”

“It's the simplest reactor anyone can make. But I don’t like that particular machine,” said Kal. “The tubing should be thicker. It’s flimsy.”

“I know,” said Sami. “I saw it earlier.”

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Paul opened the door so everyone who’d been away could get a good look.

“It might work,” Meg said. “It sends neutrons into the plasma particles. He needs enough fission to accelerate the plasma but not so much he melts the containment room. All those collisions gives a boost to the total energy but the plasma path isn’t disrupted because it’s controlled by magnets. Neutrons aren’t affected by magnets.”

“Right now he’s getting away with minimal containment because he’s not going to run it hot. If he can show it increases the fusion rate we’ll build a proper fission chamber,” Kal said. “He thought he had to get it done before Esme came back with whatever new idea you’d found.”

“No one’s quick enough to control the reaction as those pieces ofuranium are coming together,” Meg said.

“Nuclear reactors control the rate of fission with carbon rods,” said Kal. “He thought he’d attract unwanted attention, searching for the right carbon rods.”

I asked about carbon rods, Sami thought, but he said nothing. Why didn’t I think to tell Meg and Kal about the Lady Godiva, he wondered.

“Graphite is one good way to absorb neutrons,” Meg said, “but it’s hard to make it pure enough. Cadmium is better for absorbing. Xenon is a hundred and fifty times more effective but it’s a gas. We could use beryllium or hydrogen to slow neutrons down and get more collisions. He’d only need a third of the weight if he put a beryllium tamper around that uranium but it looks like Paul’s working with what he’s got.

Kal used a gangster movie metaphor. “It’s why the contract

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killer uses a .22 so that the bullet ricochets around inside the skull instead of going straight through.”

“Gross but accurate,” Meg said. “The only thing simpler than this reactor would be a pile of uranium bricks. That machine is old. Its main use should be for research. That must be how Paul ended upwith it.

“And how efficient his fission device is isn’t the main point here. If he can pre-heat the fuel without disrupting the subsequent flow then he’s onto something.”

“That’s what he said,” Sami replied.“Originally they used human reflexes bring the fission under

control,” Meg said. “The operator needs to react quickly, in about a second. Tickling the dragon. We all can do that, particularly when we know what to expect. But that’s just for a few neutrons, not a fullthermal reaction.”

“He has to bring the uranium sections together so the reaction is just starting,” Kal said. “He wants to do the classic demonstration to show he’s getting fission. Then he can insert the rods for control.”

“Why is he bothering?” Sami asked. “That experiment is in all the histories.”

“Enrico Fermi did it so Paul wants to do it,” Meg said. “Paul’s dream is to do everything Fermi did, and more.”

“That’s just ego!” Sami said. “Physics isn’t about ego.”Meg and Kal erupted into an explosive guffaw that they instantly

stifled into a strangled snort. Paul gave them a severe look. Esme smiled at them as if she wished she was in on the joke.

“If he couldn’t get carbon what’s he using?” Meg asked.“He’s got silver control rods,” said Kal. “Silver-indium-

cadmium alloy, metals all available locally. You can see them fitted

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through the gaskets on top. Electromagnets move them up and down in those tubes going through the three pieces of uranium. That way ifthere’s a power failure the rods drop into place and stop the reaction.Paul’s not suicidal.”

“How did you get holes through the uranium?” Sami asked.“I didn’t do it,” said Kal. “Paul did. He won’t let me anywhere

near the thing. He drilled the holes and fitted the tubes, set the clearances. There’s another hole through the core for the deuterium-tritium feed. Normally uranium heats water in a casing that surrounds it, but this is Lady Godiva.”

“He drilled into uranium?”“It’s metal,” Kal said. “You took metalwork in high school. Use

a press, put oil on the drill bit and keep the pressure steady. It looks to me like he did a good job.”

“That’s generous,” said Meg, “considering the way he always treats you.”

“Just because he doesn’t like me doesn’t mean I think he’s incompetent,” Kal said.

“I’d feel better if you’d done the work,” Meg said. “Janis alwaystrusted you. You’re the best.”

Sami wasn’t comfortable. Partly it was that he hadn’t been that good at metalwork himself, trying to get a straight cut, keeping the edges smooth. Maybe Kal assumed if it was easy for him it should be easy for everybody. Meg was paying attention to the demonstration but it seemed like politeness rather than enthusiasm.

They stopped talking. Something was getting ready to happen.

“You’ve been very busy,” Janis said.

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“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” said Paul. “Invention needs freedom. I can’t be afraid to trust my mind. It felt immoral to sacrifice my best idea without testing it against reality.

“I realized it wasn’t the priority for everybody but it was the only way I could see us inputting enough power to start a fusion reaction. Plus it’s what they’re doing in the United States and they have the best scientists in the world. Except for us of course. I thought we could try it before you got back. We weren’t expecting you til the weekend.”

“When are you ready to go?” asked Janis. “We scheduled our test for today. If we hadn’t had this party it

would be over already. Not that I’m not enjoying the party. It’s greatthat you’re back. You should double-check what we’ve done but we think it makes the most sense out of the possibilities and we really believe it deserves a try.”

“You’re ready to go today,” said Janis.“In about an hour and a half,” said Paul.Janis looked around the room. The researchers were hanging on

Paul’s every word. There were nods here and there. The technicians looked confident. Esme moved over to where Meg was standing with Kallik and Sami.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” said Esme.“We’re not really needed here,” said Meg.“You should get outside and enjoy the view while it’s still

daylight,” said Esme.“You can tell me more about Mexico,” said Kallik.“Don’t they need you for the test?” said Meg.“No,” said Kallik, “I do have my doubts and I said so. They went

ahead without me. I understand the physics. It could work. I just feel

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that controlling nuclear reactions by hand brings certain risks.”“You should come with us,” Meg said to Sami.Sami looked at Velen who was still standing beside Janis. Velen

saw Meg and Kallik near the door, saw Esme with them, and gave aninconspicuous wave to Sami, almost like a salute. Then Velen turnedback to hear what Janis was saying.

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Chapter 33

They took their time walking through the old mining tunnels back to the surface. Sami stopped to look again at the fish through the glass. Underneath the lake ice the light was diffused. Fish were moving but not at their summer speed. There were no shadows so depth perception depended on size. Fish were different sizes becausethey grew bigger as they aged. Measurement depended on the position of the observer. In that way biology was like physics.

Outside it was sunny, as warm as winter in the mountains ever gets. Together they walked up to the lookout Sami had shown them so many months ago. They were careful not to leave tracks, ready to come back and carry on once Paul’s experiment succeeded.

Janis still looked unconvinced.“I want you to know I’ve thought this through,” Paul said.

“Instead of pure carbon rods I’m using cadmium which will absorb far more neutrons. It’s what Enrico Fermi used in the first controlled nuclear reaction. I’ve drilled the three sections of the Lady Godiva so that if there’s a problem when they come together the cadmium rod assembly can drop into the hole and stop the reaction. Safety hasto be paramount.

“The rod motor is electromagnetic, so they fall automatically if

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the power fails. The main movement is geared so everything happens slowly. I’ve had years of hands-on experience with this device. We’ll have time to see any problem before it happens. Let’s get started.”

Esme watched the dials while the feed stock, the deuterium and tritium, was pressurized. As the ionic isotopes entered the tokamak Paul would trigger his reactor.

They’d already achieved fusion. The goal now was to make it efficient enough to become an industrial process. Once that happened Esme's job was over. She’d finally be able to spend more time outside. At heart she was a nature person.

It was late in the day. The sun was going down behind the ridge, throwing long shadows from the few trees on the summit. Lake ice gleamed and sparkled but the far shore was already in shade, dark in contrast to where the sun still reflected off the ice crystals.

The readings were where Esme wanted them. She signalled to Paul. He began bringing the uranium sections together slowly and steadily. There was no rush. It was just under a minute when the scintillator flashed, indicating the release of the first neutron.

Smoothly Paul continued to close the gaps separating the core from the saucers above and below. He was getting a flash every five seconds but several flashes a second was what he wanted everyone to see. Then he could slide in the control rods.

Reflecting the neutrons back with a tamper was much more efficient. Beryllium. That would have to be the next step. The mechanism stopped.

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The scissor movement was sticking. Paul hadn’t moved the support frame this far since the uranium was put in place originally. There’d been enough time for corrosion, hinges that hadn’t been tested recently. That was something Kal would normally do, but Kal was gone. High temperature lubricant should do for a temporary fix.

There was still time. The lubricant was in the tool cupboard a couple of feet away. Paul got it, opened the lead-lined access door, and oiled the nearest hinge. He stepped back to oil the bottom hinge. He reached up to oil the top hinge.

Esme could see him through the access door. Janis and Velen were beside her. Paul leaned across the Lady Godiva reactor to oil the far hinge.

Esme's dials were stable. Briefly she looked away from them to glance at Paul. She recalled that humans were mostly water, which ismostly hydrogen. Like beryllium, hydrogen was a tamper. Paul’s body was made of water and water was hydrogen. He was close enough now to reflect the neutrons. Suddenly the scintillator light was solid red, the flash of each new neutron too fast for the eye to see.

Two degrees every thousandth of a second.

Realizing the light was red took Esme 140 milliseconds. Deciding what needed to be done took just a few milliseconds more.

Saying “Paul! Get back!” would take most of a second, time she didn’t have. She might cover the eight feet to Paul in half a second. At university she’d been a sprinter. Moving would be faster than shouting. Do both. A strong expulsion of breath increases exertion.

It took 120 milliseconds for the nerves to trigger her muscles.

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Her start wasn’t as fast as she remembered, no starting blocks, no cleats, but the power was still there. At least Paul had stopped bringing the uranium sections together. That was good. Why hadn’t he stepped back yet?

It had taken almost 400 milliseconds. Paul was still frozen in surprise. Everything he knew said the reaction should remain constant. Fermi had manually controlled that first reaction for twenty-eight minutes.

Even if he didn’t realize why it was going out of control, Paul was enough of a scientist to trust the evidence of his senses. He could figure out why later. He pushed firmly on the hinged rails to separate the sections. The whole mechanism jammed, except for the electromagnetic motor which continued to hold the control rods reliably in place.

Esme could see that Paul and Velen had heard the start of her shout. It would be at least 110 milliseconds before Velen’s reaction could put him into motion, and then what would he do? Velen picked up his physics knowledge in dribs and drabs, thought Esme, instead of from a proper formal education. Obviously there were important things he wouldn’t know. Someone dealing with a pile of uranium bricks could knock one off the top so the mass of the pile would be sub-critical again but that wasn’t the case here. Godiva was mechanical and now the mechanism was warped.

Velen didn’t know and Paul wasn’t remembering. Esme realized that the jammed scissor rods really didn’t matter. Removing the tamper would shift the critical mass out of the danger zone. Problem solved. Understanding that took Esme three milliseconds.

The only effective solution was to move Paul away, stopping his

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hydrogen from reflecting even more neutrons. Esme had covered half the distance to him. Another 300 milliseconds. Now Paul turnedand saw the expression on her face. He looked stricken.

That’s what happened, Esme thought, when you get too focussedon one idea. You overlook important details. Thinking about that took her another millisecond. Then she crashed into Paul.

Directly beneath Sami, Meg and Kallik a deep sound came up through the rock, a sharp bark followed by a rumbling growl. They all felt a tremor like a small earthquake. Sami saw a ripple pass through the ground, spreading out around them. It felt like a hallucination. The ice seemed to sink. A pattern of cracks spread across the surface of the lake. Meg looked at Sami. Kal looked at Sami.

“The water’s flowing out of the lake,” Sami said.“Where can it go?” asked Meg.“Into the mine,” said Sami.“Paul lost control of the reaction,” Kallik said. “They’ve had an

accident.”“Everyone’s still in there,” said Meg.No one answered.“Everyone but us,” she said.Moments before the lake was covered in darkness the ice closest

to them, still bright in the sun, broke and collapsed revealing a hole where they could see water flowing out into a new subterranean creek.

There was no point to any heroic rescue mission, even if they’d each had an anti-radiation hazmat suit to wear under their spelunking

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scuba gear. Water pouring onto the fusion reaction would create enough steam to rearrange the already fragile geology of the old mine. The only thing containing all that thermal energy was the granite bedrock. Around here there was a lot of that. These mountains were mainly granite.

The three of them sat for long minutes waiting for the ground beneath them to collapse, plunging them all into a bottomless pit, butit didn’t happen. Apart from the original tremor the only change theycould recognize was the turbulent water in the lake and now, in the fading light, even that was becoming calm again.

The lake vanished in blackness and the stars came out, first one by one and then in their millions. Orion was above the horizon. Samiquickly found Sirius, the only star bright enough to cast a shadow.

After an hour or more ― it was hard for any of them to think about time ― a half moon rose. Once again they could see the lake where fresh water was now flowing over the half-sunken cracked ice. It was cold, well below freezing. By morning the lake would be glazed with a fresh sheet of unbroken ice.

Everyone was dead. Esme and Paul, the other scientists and technicians, would have been right next to the experiment when it generated enough energy, enough pressure, to blow out the underwater window. Before that happened the compression by itself would have killed them all. The water was just providing a proper burial.

Janis and Velen were dead. All the money was gone, all the equipment was destroyed, all the test results were submerged and erased.

Velen was dead. Even though Velen was old Sami felt his death

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as the greatest loss, yet it was also a relief. He’d dreaded the next escalation in getting the job done by doing whatever it took. First they’d fought hand to hand, then with machine guns, then with explosives. Sami didn’t want to imagine the next step. He’d been sure a next step was coming. Now it never would.

The moon crossed the sky and vanished behind the mountains. Sami was the first to sense the cold, zipping his parka up to the top, tying the hood under his chin and putting his gloved hands into his pockets.

Meg watched what he did, did the same and then moved to sit beside him so they could share body warmth. To show he could handle the cold Kal waited til she was snug and warm but when finally he did close up his clothing he was quick about it. Meg pattedthe spot on the ground beside her and Kal moved there, so that all three were nestled together.

They were alive. The three of them had not been blown up, had not been frozen, had not been drowned.

“The uranium couldn’t blow up,” Kallik said. “It wasn’t contained. Nothing would bounce back. There wouldn’t be enough neutron collisions. The Godiva would melt before it could ever explode.”

“It just had to be hot enough to melt the glass holding back the lake,” Meg said. “When the water hit the machinery it was instant steam, a lot of it, with nowhere to go. It wasn’t a nuclear detonation. The impact wave was old-fashioned steam.”

“Steam is powerful enough to fracture rocks,” Kallik said.“How could that little machine, however hot, move this whole

mountain?” Sami said.“The fundamental implication of quantum uncertainty,” said

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Kallik, “is that anything that can happen does happen.”

In the early morning light the lake ice looked bizarre ― the clearfresh ice a window onto a vast network of cracks and crevices as if a rock had fallen on porcelain. Soon the cross country skiers would be gliding along the trail beside the lake. They’d see something had changed, something big.

It began to snow. First it was just a flake or two drifting down but within minutes the snow fell steadily ― no wind, not a blizzard, just a gentle blanket of snow hiding the lake along with any record of yesterday.

Kallik was the first to comprehend that everything that had happened was gone. The people he’d worked with, joked with, were dead and buried, not just six feet but hundreds of feet under the earthin collapsed tunnels filled now with water. He had no idea who their friends had been, their families, their relatives. They existed only as he remembered them, he and his two surviving friends.

They weren’t the first people he’d seen die and that was a sad thing. This was the most he’d known who’d died all at once but death was a qualitative rather than a quantitative experience. It was important to each person individually. As far as the person who died was concerned once it was over it no longer mattered. Kallik was practical. Once someone had died she was no longer able to help himget something done. Kallik was a doer. He didn’t believe in life afterdeath.

Sami watched the snow cover the lake. He knew fresh powder on the lake would get the skiers out early. He leaned forward to

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stand up. A big mound of snow fell off his hood to land on the ground in front of him.

Kallik was starting to look around. Meg still sat motionless. Sami worried about her. These were her colleagues, her mentors, herfriends now dead and gone. Whatever plans they’d had were now gone with them. Any question she’d had that one of them could haveanswered would be unanswered forever.

“Now who’s going to pay me?” Meg said.It wasn’t the reaction Sami was expecting.“My money’s all gone,” said Meg. “It was in my locker.”“Didn’t you transfer it back to your parents?” Kallik said.“My father doesn’t need my money. He owns a business. Two

hundred people work for him.”“How much did you lose?” Sami asked.“Almost twelve thousand dollars.”Sami looked at Kallik.“That’s about right,” Kallik said. “We both started at the same

time.”“Is yours gone too?” Sami asked.“It’s right here,” Kallik said, patting his belly. “Money belt.

Nomads are always ready to move. How about you?”“It’s at my mom’s house,” Sami said.“We could put all our money together and divide three ways,”

said Kallik. “Like musketeers.”Meg hugged her knees and looked at him. She looked at Sami.

Sami nodded. “That would be very nice,” she said.It was bright now in the east. Hours would pass before the sun

got above the mountains but the new day had begun.“We can’t stay here,” Meg said.

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“I’m starting to get cold,” she said.Kallik looked at the trail down the mountain and then turned to

look at Sami.“Let’s get going,” Sami said.