'Stiff as that little super tool gadget,' 'Becca said as she picked up a
Jim followed suit by singing just in time, 'Here's to you, Mr. Robinson Anson thinks he's cool but he don't know. Woah, woah, woah.'
'Huh,' I grunted.
We were quiet for a few minutes as Jim spun up the centrifuge for a test. Then 'Becca asked, 'Hey did you guys see the news last night? There was the strangest thing on about this murder.'
'No. I missed it. What about it.' I asked.
'Well, apparently some local materials engineer guy was working on this new fiberglasslike alloy that would be used for aircraft and spacecraft. He was working on it in his basement lab. The material was supposed to be like Kevlar but more modern, stronger and lighter. So anyway, this guy was mixing some of this stuff up in a big tub in his basement when he was attacked. There must have been a scuffle and the police said that at one point it looked like the engineer pushed his attacker's head into the tub of the not-yet-dry resin and fiber material. Unfortunately for the engineer, the attacker did get free of his hold and shot him. His wife came home from work and found him dead in the basement floor.' She paused for a breath.
Jim chimed in on cue, 'Did they have any leads?'
'Becca continued, 'Well, the sketch artist and the forensic specialists examined the material in the tub once it hardened.'
'Hey, that is pretty cool and lucky.' I was awed by our local police.
'Yeah.' 'Becca laughed. 'They were able to make a really good composite drawing!'
Jim added, 'Yeah, he had made quite an impression!' She and Jim guffawed.
'Okay, okay.' I shook my head. 'You got me. And I'm sure they will find out that the attacker was an out-of- work impressionist, and that forensics got all the evidence they needed from
'I'll let you guys get back to work.' I laughed smugly. I left before they could top me. As I closed the airlock I thought about how proud I was for finding those two.
My computer had finished its calculation by the time I had gotten back to my office. Three of the equations in the stress-energy tensor didn't converge to a solution.
'Dangnabit! @$$%%&?!' Oh, well. I changed a few other things here and there and started it up again. It was about four-thirty in the afternoon—Tabitha would be here soon. I checked on the vacuum chamber and it was ready to go. I brought the warp experiment online and so I was ready whenever she was.
She arrived at the lab about an hour later. By that time Jim and 'Becca were about finished with the new energy collector. They left the computer running the manufacture of the prototype and joined us in the warp experiment lab.
'Nice of you two to join us. How is the collector coming?' I asked.
'It should be done in an hour or so,' Rebecca guessed.
'Good. Let's get to work here shall we? I already brought the system up. The electron gun is ready to go. All of the detectors are ready and the cameras are online,' I assured everyone.
Jim sat down at a computer and started firing up the warp field generators. In other words, he started increasing the current in the toroids and he turned the function generators on that are connected to the field coils.
'Everything is ready. The fields are on,' he said.
'Rebecca, fire the electron beam.'
We all watched the detector monitors and the camera monitors with anticipation. A very bright blue light flashed on all of the camera monitors and nothing happened on the electron detectors.
'What the heck was that?' Jim exclaimed.
'Blue photons,' 'Becca said smartly.
'Why were there blue photons?' I rubbed my chin and thought out loud. 'There's nothing in there for the electrons to react with. If they ablated some of the toroids away, the particle detectors would've measured that. What the heck is going on?' I scratched my head.
Tabitha looked concerned.
'It couldn't be Cerenkov radiation could it?' she asked.
My brain did a double backflip.
''Becca hit the e-beam again!' I almost shouted. She flipped a couple of interlock switches and pressed the fire button. Again the blue flash! 'Oh my God!' I grabbed Tabitha and kissed her right on the mouth. I turned and ran to the whiteboard and never looked back.
It was so obvious! How could I not have thought of it before? Jim, Rebecca, and a slightly red astronaut filtered into the room. I hoped she was just blushing and not mad.
'What gives, Anson?' Rebecca asked.
Jim followed with, 'You gonna let us in on the secret?'
'Shhh! Give me a second—us old people think slower than you youngsters,' I scolded. They sat patiently while I worked out tensors in my head, on the board, on pieces of notes on the table, and back on the board. It was like an avalanche. It took one tiny snowflake to trigger a flow of ideas that were so powerful I couldn't control the rate they came or where they were going. I just had to follow along for the ride. When the smoke and dust settled I had a