for years to get an endowed chair of mathematics?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Well, it has. With no success. But it seems you made a deep impression on your merchant friend Jeremiah Brantley, who is well known in commercial circles and among other notables of the town. He and the mayor unexpectedly called on me yesterday. He’s apparently made inquiries overseas and consulted with others, and is now engaged in raising subscriptions all over the shire to found such a post. From merchants and town officials! With relations between the university and the town always in a delicate state, this is to be marveled at. It’s also to be approached with great caution, so as not to upset matters.”
He brought his hands together and interlaced his fingers.
“So. Pray tell me, what exactly is mechanical engineering, why are the merchants and local notables so convinced of its value to them that they’re willing to contribute to the university on its behalf, and if this institution were to carry on a course of instruction to that end, how would it be done? I wish to be thoroughly prepared to listen and speak of this question, before it arises again.”
“Oh. Well. I would define it as the use of mathematics and scientific knowledge to design mechanical devices. Its uses are beyond counting. As to why the merchants are interested, I think they’re looking first of all to the rapid movement of people and goods. The sooner and surer the arrival, the sooner and surer the profit. That’s what Master Brantley said to me. They see steamships, railroad trains, aircraft on the continent, and they want them here. Then there’s mechanical spinning and weaving-he was most fascinated by that possibility, being a wool merchant. Now as to the curriculum, I have some notes here, which one of the physics teachers in Grantville allowed me to copy down.”
Richard turned in his chair, and pulled a commonplace book from a shelf. He laid it on the table and flipped through the pages, then turned it so his visitor could see.
“Here, a list of courses for the degree in mechanical engineering, at the great California Institute of Technology. Calculus in multiple variables, linear algebra, differential equations, probability, motion and gravity, electricity and magnetism, the theory of relativity, particles and waves, quantum mechanics, theory and experimental practice of chemistry, biology of viruses, statics and dynamics of rigid and deformable bodies, thermodynamics, engineering design methods, fluid mechanics, technical and scientific writing and speaking, mechanics of materials, control theory, and practical mechanical laboratory sessions. Humanities as well, of course.”
Dr. Comber’s face was a study in consternation as he stared down at the list. “If all those completely unknown fields of knowledge are of similar scope and effort to the few I have at least heard of, it seems a most ambitious curriculum for a doctorate.”
Richard hesitated.
“It doesn’t seem so to you?”
“Ah…that’s for the bachelor’s degree. Bachelor of Science in Mechanical Engineering, a four-year curriculum. The advanced degrees dealt with research, original contributions to the field, and sometimes the leadership of projects and enterprises.”
Dr. Comber sat up again and stared at Richard straight-on. “The bachelor’s degree, forsooth! All that is what those mechanicians studied? And what we would have to teach, and find faculty and endowments for, were we to attempt such a thing?”
John broke in. “Richard, you’ve mentioned that place to me before. You did say Caltech was one of the most formidable engineering colleges in the world, didn’t you? A place for untiring near-geniuses to turn themselves into the leading lights of their profession? Out of all that, how much would be essential to do worthwhile work in our world?”
“Now, there’s a thought. Perhaps half could be put to immediate use. Of that, perhaps half is truly essential to do the beginnings of practical engineering work, while continuing formal studies. The Grantvillers call a student at that stage an ‘engineering trainee.’ Perhaps a little less than that. Thermodynamics is the key, for steam engines, and steam engines are practically the gateway to an industrial revolution. That comes about mid-way. So, a quarter perhaps.”
Dr. Comber sat back and folded his hands in his lap. He nodded gravely. “A quarter. So. A faculty of how many to teach such a reduced curriculum? Have you given thought to that question?”
“I’m uncertain. The Grantvillers were wrestling with it when I left, and hadn’t reached firm conclusions. But I think perhaps, if we considered only the minimum at first, and if some courses were given only in alternate years, and if we selected students for their ability to study independently, it might be done with eight or so. Perhaps.”
“Before Pan and Janus, Leamington, do you have the faintest idea of the magnitude of what you propose? It amounts to adding an entire new faculty to those we already have-medicine, law, theology and philosophy. Not only new academic seats, but new rooms-you said laboratories? Acquiring teaching devices such as your pendulum? Novel statutes for the university, I don’t doubt. And more students, likely as not. It’s like to founding a new college. And who would pay for all that? Who could, in these times?”
Richard sat, thinking.
“Put that way, I can’t dispute it. It reminds me of something one of the engineers said to me, in a moment of desperation. ‘If you have a mountain to move, and only a teaspoon to do it with, move the first spoonful. It’s a spoonful you won’t have to move later.’ ”
“I suppose that’s what you’re doing here, teaching what you’ve brought back, and translating this one book of mathematics into proper Latin? Carrying away a spoonful from the mountain you beheld?”
“I think what they brought to our world was a mere wheelbarrow full. A wagon load, at most. The mountain was left behind. But, yes. And were you to bring us that one professorship through your well-regarded diplomacy, I would rejoice for it, and not complain of the fish not caught. It would be another spoonful.”
As they sat contemplating that thought, John took a thick packet from under his arm and laid it before Richard. “I’d thought to give you this earlier, before other matters intervened. There’s a letter for you. It’s from John Pell, in Grantville.”
Dr. Comber looked up. “John Pell! Is it private, or is some of it meant for the university?”
Richard said, “We’ll soon see.” As he opened it, a small, beautifully printed sheet of cream-colored paper fell free from the rest. He picked it up, and smiled. “Well! A birth announcement. Deborah Lucille Reardon was born on November 17 to Landon Reardon and Sarah Beth Cochran Reardon. So Mrs. Reardon has been safely delivered. Good news, indeed, in many ways. The Reardons have been much in my thoughts.”
Dr. Comber was eyeing the corner of a glossy sheet of paper poking out of the stack. “Is that a photograph?”
“It looks to be. A black-and-white one.” Richard pulled it out and laid it on the table. John came closer, to see over their shoulders.
Two figures were seated on a brocaded couch. There was a large picture of a saddle horse in a pasture on the wall behind them. A tall, graceful woman with long dark hair sat on the right, wearing a flowered print dress and a single string of pearls. On the left was a husky man with lighter hair, wearing an up-time business suit. They faced half toward the camera, and half toward an infant sleeping in her lap. They were holding hands.
“It’s a Reardon family portrait. A new one, obviously.”
John mused, “A beautiful woman.”
Richard let slip an involuntary snort of amusement. “Indeed, and a most persistent and determined one, into the bargain.”
Dr. Comber raised an eyebrow. “Oh, how so?”
“You’d need to know the Cochran sisters. They have a long-standing reputation for letting nothing stop them, once they decide a thing must be done. There’s a story that Sarah stayed at the school well past her usual time one day, to deal with a student discipline problem, a boy on the edge of getting himself into serious trouble. By the time she and the guidance counselor were done ramming some sense into his head, the grocery stores had all closed. Nevertheless, she put dinner on the table that night. With a squirrel rifle.”
“Remarkable.”
“Not by their standards. She’s no better or worse a shot than a thousand others. Well, let’s see what Pell has to say.”
He held up the first page where the light from the sky could fall on it. “He sends his best wishes to all of us
