Miss Buddha (39 page)

“We have to document this, as clearly and as
carefully as we can, and publish our findings in a peer paper.”

“Peer paper?”

“The next step is to have others replicate
the experiment.”

“Why?”

Which Julian ignored. “We make this possible
by writing a technical paper addressing the scientific community,
documenting the experiment in sufficient detail to allow others to
run the exact same experiment, to the exact same result. Unless
this is done, we will not—and I can guarantee you this, Ruth—we
will not be believed.”

“But the EPROMs,” she said, nodding at the
silvery package on Julian’s desk. “They’re right there.”

“Easily doctored,” said Julian. “Any
discovery of magnitude—and nothing has ever been of this magnitude,
ever—must be replicated and verified. That’s a natural scientific
law.”

Ruth seemed uncomfortable with this.

“What?” asked Julian.

“How long will this take? How much time do
you need?”

“Do
I
need? There’s no ‘I’ here, Ruth.
This is our experiment, our paper. This will be published
jointly.”

Ruth didn’t answer.

“What? I don’t get it, Ruth.”

“I had hoped to tell the world.”

“We
will
tell the world, but not until
the experiment has been verified. You’ll just have to hold your
horses.”

“How long will this take?”

“Well, once you stop pouting, it shouldn’t
take more than a week, two perhaps—it has to be approved by Cal
Tech review as well.”

“All this red tape.”

“Do you want to be believed or not?”

Ruth shrugged her shoulders, striking Julian
as the picture of a slightly petulant teenager. “Of course,” she
said.

“Then we have to go about it the red-tape
way.”

Ruth sighed her concession.

:

It took a full month.

The writing, the stating everything as
clearly, as unambiguously as possible, took one, two, three drafts,
then some input from Ananda and Melissa, then a fourth draft read
with meticulous care by William Williams, Julian’s perfectionist
assistant, who spotted no less than fourteen what he called
inconsistencies (but what any normal person would call typos, or
grammar mistakes), then a final draft that they all agreed upon.
This was all done in less than a week.

The problem was the review board. What Ruth
thought of a red tape. Turning very red indeed.

The board, consisting of three Cal Tech
professors, all with a host of patents to their name, all busy on
their own projects, and all a little envious—if not suspicious—of
Julian and his pretty protégé assistant, flat out did not believe
the findings.

Not until they got assurances, both in
writing and in person, from the head of Intel Labs concerning the
soundness of the EPROMs used; not until they had spoken to—again in
person—to the Cambridge team leader, as well as those heading up
the Borneo and Colombia sites, to verify every last comma (it
seemed to Ruth) of the paper.

“The worst thing that could possibly happen
to Cal Tech as an institution,” Julian told Ruth, “is that they
sign off on these findings only to have them disproved. Cal Tech
would be the laughing stock of science. It happened to the
University of Utah in 1989 with their Fleischmann–Pons cold fusion
experiment, which was prematurely reported by the school to the
Journal of Electroanalytical Chemistry only to then be disproved by
just about every attempt to replicate it. Talk about eggs and
face.”

“Yes, but two weeks.”

“They’ll come around,” said Julian. “They
have no choice. They’re right to be cautious, but they’re also good
scientists, and they’re doing all the right things, speaking to the
right people. I don’t blame them.”

Again, the teenager looked her age, not
liking the delay one bit.

The final step was the board’s interview
with Julian and Ruth, which took two full days—though with ample
breaks for coffee, sandwiches, lunches, seemingly any excuse for a
break. In the end, however, they were satisfied—and scared, was
Ruth’s observation—that their experiment was sound, and that the
result was scientifically correct. Impossibly unexpected, is how
they put it, but obviously true.

They signed the paper, and
it was rushed to publication in
the
Journal of Particle Physics
, which had it
online within an hour after submission.

Julian—with Ruth’s concurrence—knowing that
the paper would create a storm (and a storm of inquiries and
questions, both from the scientific community and the press) had
made it abundantly clear in the prolog to the paper that the
research team (meaning himself and Ruth) would answer no
questions—or grant any interviews—from anyone who did not seriously
intend to replicate the experience; stating clearly that before
this was made available for public consumption, as he put it, he
wanted verification in place.

This assertion notwithstanding, within hours
Cal Tech was inundated with calls, and soon thereafter, visits. All
wanting to speak to Julian and Ruth, and now.

The Cal Tech switchboard had been instructed
to ask every caller if they intended to replicate the experiment,
if not, sorry, we can’t help you.

Many a caller lied, of course, sure, that’s
why we’re calling. Those were put through to Julian’s office and
fielded by the efficient-as-ever William Williams. Julian had left
him a list of institutions and teams that should be believed if
they claimed to plan a replication, and for each caller (or
visitor), William went down the list, vetting them.

Julian and Ruth, meanwhile, had cleared out,
and was spending the week following the publication at
Melissa’s.

The result of this storm was that four teams
declared that they would like to replicate, and as they were all on
Julian’s list appointments were made, and meetings were held,
questions were answered, dates were set.

The four teams that were to mirror Julian’s
and Ruth’s experiment were UCLA in Los Angeles, California; Cal
Tech’s archrival MIT in Massachusetts; QUT (Queensland University
of Technology) in Brisbane, Australia; and KTH (Royal Institute of
Technology) in Stockholm, Sweden.

All four teams had travelled to Pasadena,
had met with Julian and Ruth, and were now confident that they
could recreate the experiment exactly, although each team
member—with the exception of Sara Karlsson, heading up the Swedish
team and who smiled a lot—expressed serious doubts as to the
outcome. This simply wasn’t possible was it?

“I think it’s possible,” smiled
Karlsson.

::
88 :: (Pasadena)

The first team to complete verification was
QUT in Brisbane. Twelve runs. Perfect duplication. On the April
video call their team leader looked as stunned as he looked
pleased: “I’ll be damned,” he said. “I’ll be damned.” And then for
good measure said it a few more times.

“I take it you confirmed,” said Julian.

“I’ll be damned,” he said.

Sara Karlsson at KTH called two days later.
Smiling.

“I
knew
it,” she said.

MIT, however, had bad news. Aaron Short,
heading up the MIT Molecular Phenomena Department, was shaking his
head. “Not a single time,” he said.

“I know I have no right to ask, but I have
to,” said Julian. “You did follow the procedure exactly?”

“Of course.”

The UCLA team arrived two days later, in
person, with champagne. “Incredible,” was their consensus.
“Incredible.”

:

Two days later, Julian and Ruth arrived at
MIT, to see Aaron Short.

“Tell me, precisely,” said Ruth. Which saw a
raised eyebrow or two, especially from Professor Short, who was
accustomed to always occupy center stage, no one would tell him
what to say, precisely.

“Please,” added Julian.

So he did, take them through it, step by
minute step, and it all replicated the Cal Tech protocol, to the
letter.

Julian was shaking his head, he didn’t
understand.

Ruth observed, “Shouldn’t you keep those
EPROMs under wraps, the sunlight could disturb the data.

“Oh, don’t worry,” said Aaron short, they’re
not EPROMs, they’re Flash Memory. UV can’t harm them.”

“They’re not EPROMs?” said Ruth, shouted
Julian, with one, strange combined voice.

“Same principle,” said Short.

“No, no, no,” said Julian. “They have to be
EPROMs.”

“What are you getting at?” asked Professor
Short. “They’re non-volatile, just like EPROMs. And a lot cheaper.
We did ask the Intel Labs for some, but it seems KTH got to them
first. They were out, and we could not wait.”

“It will only work with EPROMs,” said
Ruth.

“You’re kidding,” said Short.

“No, not kidding,” said Julian. “There is a
lot of electricity floating around for the particles to use to
revise the Flash Memory history, and they obviously found and used
it. Only EPROMs.”

Short turned and looked at his colleagues.
“EPROMs,” he said. “Nothing else will work.”

“I’ll call Intel Labs if you want,” said
Julian.

“No, don’t worry,” said Short. “We’ll take
care of it.” Scrambling to regain some of his lost control.

:

A week later, on the last day of April,
Aaron Short placed another video call to Cal Tech.

“I have to apologize,” he said. “And
congratulate you.”

“You confirm?” said Julian.

Aaron Short smiled and shook his head. “I
don’t understand, I really do not understand it. Not yet, anyway.
But I confirm. We ran it twelve times, every time confirmed. You’ve
really stumbled onto something here, Julian.”

“It was Ruth’s stumble,” said Julian.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Ruth.

“Incredible,” said Short. “This is really
incredible.”

“Not really,” said Ruth.

Apart from some more or less formal wrap-up
pleasantries, that was the gist of the call.

::
89 :: (Pasadena)

“And now what?” said Ruth.

“Now
we write the public paper,” said Julian.

“How public is public?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Are we writing for broad consumption?
Should it be accessible to the man on the street?”

“Both of those.”

“How do we best include my mission?”

“You’re really serious about that?,” said
Julian. “I’m not sure this is the appropriate venue.”

“I am serious about it, Julian. People will
care about this, about what we’ve shown here. That’s why I’m sure
they will also care about who I am.”

“I don’t see how we can work it in.”

Ruth was waiting for more.

“It’s not like we can add a footnote,” said
Julian. “Oh, by the way, Ruth Marten is also the Buddha returned.
Or include it in the bio section.”

“We should outline the sequence of universal
agreements, explain that this is why the EPROM worked where RAM and
even Flash Memory would not. We should clarify which agreement came
first, which agreement takes precedence.”

“I think we’ll lose them.”

“Surely we should mention it?”

“The agreements?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not sure. I see the paper as a less
technical version of what we’ve already published.”

Ruth was shaking her head. “It has to be
more than that. We’ve proven that without life there is
nothing.”

“What we have proven,” said Julian, and
rather carefully, “is that without life looking for these four
seconds there is no subatomic particle. That’s what we’ve proven.
Nothing else.”

“I mean by extension.”

“I think you’re giving the man on the street
too much credit, intellectually.”

“He is smarter than you think,” said Ruth,
and not especially kindly. “The man on the street.”

Julian regarded the young girl in silence.
She was no young girl, this he knew, of course, and now this was
more evident than ever. Then he said:

“What do you suggest then?”

“Do you mind if I write the paper on my
own?”

That had, in fact, been on the tip of his
tongue to suggest. “No,” he said. “Actually, no. I don’t mind. This
really is your experiment, your idea. Your recollection, as you put
it.”

“Thanks, Julian. I will do that then.”

Then Julian told her, “According to William,
they’re already clamoring for it. The papers, the television
stations.”

“That is good. Clamor is good,” said
Ruth.

:

Technically speaking, Ruth’s public
paper—which she referred to as her coming-out paper (see
below)—should have been approved by the Cal Tech review board, but
Julian, once he had read it (and being well versed with the board)
advised against showing it to them.

“They’ll never let it see the light of
public day.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Bad? No, not at all. It’s that good. It’s
too radical. It’s too much.”

“For the board?”

“Yes.”

“But the public, what do you think?”

“I think it’ll raise some eyebrows.”

“Do you think they’ll get it?”

“I’m understating. Yes, I think they’ll get
it, at least many will. And it’ll cause a storm. That’s what I
think. A storm that Cal Tech will not necessarily welcome, but
there you have it.”

Ruth nodded. “So it’s a go.”

“I’d say so.”

Enlisting the services of Cal Tech’s Public
Relations department, Julian saw to it that copies of Ruth’s paper
were widely disseminated. It was a Monday. It was the third of May.
It was late in the afternoon.

Even so, after much scramble and
rearrangement of topics, most U.S. television stations led with the
story that evening.