The Conversation with Einstein

By Scott Jacobsen

In "The Conversation with Einstein", Jeremiah Laing is a time-travelling historian from the 42nd century, who becomes marooned in the year 1931 after saving a man named Sidney Chalmers from an accident. After an intriguing conversation at one of Einstein's lectures, the trio discover that Chalmers holds an invention capable of compressing interstellar distances into a single step - the Portal.

Their journey through the Portal lands them in a tropical paradise with residents blessed with advanced nanotechnology. There, they discover a looming disaster threatening all existence - a gigantic, unstable black hole known as the Hatchery. As the team travels to Earth's late Paleocene age, they realize the Hatchery's reach extends even there, and they are running out of time.

The team employs nanotechnology to create the Projector, an advanced version of Chalmers' Portal. In their escape, they find themselves in an alternate realm with malfunctioning nanotech causing accelerated aging. Only Jeremiah and his android daughter, Tamara, remain unaffected.

As Einstein and Chalmers work to regain access to the realm that fuels their life-sustaining nanotech, Jeremiah and Tamara are left with their final equations. Will these cryptic solutions allow them to design a multistage Portal back to real space and evade their impending doom?

"The Conversation with Einstein" is a thrilling journey across time and space, testing the boundaries of human ingenuity, persistence, and the will to survive against all odds.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jun 9, 2023
• ISBN: 9798350907841

Scott Jacobsen

Scott Jacobsen is a seasoned broadcast engineer and proud alumnus of the University of Oklahoma, where he honed his storytelling skills studying journalism. In his free time, he enjoys the thrill of the open road, frequently embarking on exhilarating bicycle tours. In 1975, he not only participated in a prestigious cross-country bicycle tour, but also captured his adventure on the big screen, starring in the feature film, "The Great American Bike Tour." A romantic at heart, Scott fondly recalls chasing his future wife, Peggy, up Gates Pass on their first date—a testament to his love for both cycling and his life partner.

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Contents

Marooned

The Conversation

Portal

Excursion

Template

The War

Caldera

Standard

Marriage

Paleocene

The Hatchery

Escape

Dark World

New London

Rebuilding

Glaciation

Daughter

Race

Die-off

Transformation

Theory

Five Statements

Escape

Rescue

The Conversation with Einstein

©2023 Scott Jacobsen. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

ISBN: 979-8-35090-783-4 paperback

ISBN: 979-8-35090-784-1 ebook

1

Marooned

"Αnd now we take the value this statement and factor it in to the result of this quantity represented here, and, like a fine symphony, our equation balances. Professor Einstein turned from his panoramic series of equation-filled chalkboards, grinning to the multitude in the Oxford lecture hall, which would have made a fine movie theater if the room were darkened. Nobody knew it yet, but his blackboard equations would be preserved for some time to come. Any questions?"

Jeremiah could hardly keep from raising his hand—which was a thing he dare not do. A young chap, with his dark hair swept back from a pale, moon-like face which sported a rather large, straight nose, gained Einstein’s nod.

"Yes, professor, but to what dimension are you referring?"

Einstein was quick to answer. "Why, our dimension, of course. He indicated his scrawled equations. Isn’t that obvious? A short burst of laughter erupted, not all students taking part, for Professor Einstein raised his short piece of chalk in a fashion that said he wasn’t finished. Mr. …"

Chalmers, sir. Sidney Chalmers.

"Mr. Chalmers, I am curious; do you know of any other realm in which this definition of space-time would be useful?"

Chalmers glanced nervously side-to-side, no doubt wondering whether Professor Einstein was about to make him a fool. Jeremiah, however, waited in suspense. This Chalmers had asked the same question he would have, if he were able.

Well, Chalmers started, continuing to shift his eyes to his sides, clearly uneasy with the attention he had gained with his question, what about the fourth dimension?

Ah, the professor said, you’ve been reading H.G. Wells.

More relaxed laughter erupted, but it was cut short when Einstein put his hands on his hips, waiting for more from Chalmers.

Aye, when I was a wee lad, Chalmers admitted, his face reddening with embarrassment. But he quickly got past that and continued. Nonetheless, by the look of things there, he gestured expansively to the blackboards, I’d say you’re suggesting a fine way of tying time to the fabric of space. Wouldn’t that by itself define another dimension if then the fabric could be manipulated?

Einstein’s moustache twitched as he stared at the man for several seconds. Had the professor at last been dumbfounded?

Science fiction, he smiled patronizingly. It was not to be. The bell rang and the clatter of students rising from their seats filled the auditorium. Jeremiah thought it was over, but Einstein surprised him when he called to Chalmers over the noise of exiting attendees, See me this afternoon at three. I would like to discuss something with you.

Chalmers brightened, apparently as equally astonished as was Jeremiah by Einstein’s curiosity. Of course!

You know where my office is?

Aye, professor, I’ll be there. Chalmers waved and hurried off, following the other students to their next classes.

Jeremiah hung back while Einstein turned back to his equations as the room quieted. The man jumped when Jeremiah said, Excuse me, professor.

Oh, who are you?

Jeremiah Laing. I was wondering…

Yes?

If I might sit in on your discussion with Mr. Chalmers?

Einstein’s brow furled, its wrinkles deepening. Why? Jeremiah smiled inwardly. It was the one question every great scientist asked—repeatedly.

It seems Mr. Chalmers and I think along the same lines. Your banter just now piqued my curiosity.

Einstein smiled easily. Of course, Mr. Laing, please come join us.

Wonderful! Jeremiah said with feeling. I’ll see you, then. Einstein had already turned back to his equations and waved his piece of chalk at him absently as acknowledgement. Even with his established theories, Einstein was not one to sit on his laurels; he was a man who would say to himself, what if I made this or that modification to my statements? What would it yield? It was how every great mind hammered out the revelations that were part of human history.

Jeremiah paused on his way out to look again at the particular sequence of symbols which had already made Einstein famous for his theory of relativity. It would be interesting to see how well this Chalmers chap would follow such thinking.

And then, quite suddenly, he remembered that in his own time line, Einstein, as part of his three-chapter lecture series on relativity, was on this day to give a lecture on the expansion of the universe and demonstrate, using his eloquent mastery of mathematics, how to quantify its dimensions—not his relativity theory! No doubt because relativity was part of the series, and it was also used to determine the age of the universe, Jeremiah had not thought the subject of today’s lecture to be out of the ordinary.

And now his encounter with Chalmers, just three hours ago, resurfaced. It was raining—as it still was now—and he’d spotted a cab running in his direction but he was too distant to hail it. Chalmers was standing on the curb, looking like he was about to step into the street, either to hail the cab for himself or simply to cross over—Jeremiah didn’t know which—and he’d called to him to hail the cab for him. Chalmers had almost lost his balance as he’d stopped short of moving into the street, only to have another car—a small, maneuverable BMW by the look of it—cut over from the center lane into the curb lane to just barely miss the poor, startled Chalmers, who had said to him, after they had boarded their cab, I believe you saved my hide back there, old man.

Rubbish, Jeremiah had dismissed. You’d have been across before that car came along.

Oh, I don’t think so, sir. It was scarcely a second after you called me back when it came careening by, I’d say. Look; you’ll at least let me get the fare, won’t you? It’s the least I can do.

Of course.

As it happened, they were both headed to the university, and Jeremiah thought nothing of it at the time—but now…now he realized the encounter might have ramifications that would ring throughout time from here to distant futurity! And in less than two hours he might discover how much influence his encounter with Chalmers had.

But if Chalmers was a key individual, he should be able to determine that now.

Jeremiah moved to a bench near a fountain in front of the library where he could see a good distance in all directions. Eavesdroppers could not be permitted. He pulled his alt-space communicator from his inner vest pocket and thumbed it to initiate a link. There was no answer. He tried again repeatedly to no avail. Running a self-diagnostic on the communicator showed nominal status. He felt panic building which showed in his trembling fingers as they moved frantically over the communicator’s miniature panel. Alt-space interface parameters were correct to navigate to his origin time and location:

Origin endpoint: 4187.AD.June.3.15.30.GMT.-7.Tucson.NA.

There was no echo-back from his time. No beacon stream, no referent, nothing. It was impossible, unless—unless his point of origin from his current perspective had become inaccessible.

Alright, then; time to run a double-blind. He called up his current coordinates.

Local endpoint: 1931.AD.May.16.13.42.GMT.Oxford.BC.

He got up from his bench and walked through lingering drizzle to a newsstand. The header of the local newspaper showed the correct date, and when he spun around, a nearby clock tower gave the time just one minute behind that indicated by his communicator.

Unbidden, he felt adrenaline flood his system as his feeling of panic redoubled. Get a grip, man! He admonished himself. It’s not the end of the world; at least, not yet.

In all his many travels, Jeremiah had been careful in the extreme—as any Traveler should—not to disturb the continuity of his timeline. Just twenty five years or so hence, the many-universes theorem would be postulated, which was no theory at all in Jeremiah’s time. In the advent time travel’s discovery, it was proven fact. But even in his far-flung future home, man had not learned to traverse the Multiplicity of Histories, realities which closely paralleled—or largely diverged from!—their neighbors.

Jeremiah searched his memory for any other action on his part which could have so profoundly influenced his time-line and he found none. He had no choice but to conclude that Chalmers was the linchpin in the flow of time which led to his own temporal circumstance. Had the man changed futurity so drastically by his simple suggestion to Professor Einstein? Apparently he had. The many-universes postulate had already demonstrated many times to Jeremiah’s lost temporal peers that once a divergence had occurred, it was next to impossible to undo it. However, with careful nudging, here and there, it had already been proven that the effects of such a circumstantial divergence could be minimized. Three of his Traveling friends had returned with their own varying degrees of astonishment of how their home had changed since they’d been away…but at least they’d been able to return to a home that was recognizable! For Jeremiah, in light of his inability to establish a link to his temporal equipment, this was clearly not the case. In fact, he feared, the chances of his return to a future that was at all recognizable was diminishing as the seconds passed. And yet, he must try to do so, or lose forever the ability to return to his future home!

2

The Conversation

"O f course, I should have known," Jeremiah mouthed when he arrived at Professor Einstein’s office. Chalmers was already there, even though Jeremiah had arrived fully ten minutes early. The man’s look as he gazed at Einstein reminded him of an expectant puppy, ready to play fetch with whatever his master pitched. Nonetheless, this Chalmers fellow was undoubtedly quite insightful for his apparent young age, and Jeremiah suspected that in his own, home timeline, Chalmers should have been killed by that sports car he had called him back from.

Chalmers, when he spotted Jeremiah, said, "Oh, it’s you. I wondered who the professor was speaking of. He proffered a hand to shake. I didn’t know you were interested in this sort of thing."

Jeremiah inclined his head as he shook Chalmers’ hand. Sort of a hobby of mine, you see?

Einstein, who had taken off his tie and replaced his jacket with a sweatshirt, said, You two are acquainted?

Yes, Chalmers returned. He motioned to Jeremiah. In fact, I owe him my life.

Einstein’s gray moustache twisted as his mouth formed a small O.

Now let’s not get carried away, sir. I only…

…had me hail a cab for you…I know. But in the process you kept me from being broadsided by that reckless driver.

You stumped up, so we’re even.

Yes, but I feel like I should do more…

Jeremiah waved this off emphatically. Never you mind, sir. I’m quite happy without any further idolatry.

Very well, Chalmers sighed. He turned to Einstein. So, what was it, then, that you wanted to discuss?

After Einstein identified Chalmers’ contention with his relativity theorem, he sternly handed him his piece of chalk with which he had quickly scribbled on his office chalk-board the several equations Chalmers had referred to during his lecture.

Alright, then, Mr. Chalmers, he said calmly, prove it to me.

Chalmers looked triumphant, like he had waited for this moment for some time. He took the piece of chalk. Very well, he said briskly.

With that, Chalmers began to piece together in his equations the rudiments of multi-spatial quantum mechanics. It was something that wasn’t supposed to happen for at least another three decades. Chalmers was indeed ahead of his time. Would Chalmers’ scribbling be recognized by Einstein for what it was…the crude means to manipulate space-time, not simply describe it? The professor’s expression was difficult to read as Chalmers spelled out his proposal using integral calculus and, surprisingly, weaving into it the foundations of New Physics, which Jeremiah knew would be widely accepted—but not until the twenty-third century!

Einstein’s brow furled as he took in these last entries on his chalkboard. I’m not certain I understand this last sequence… he pointed with a thick forefinger "…here…and here. This makes no sense to me. It is disjointed with real space…as if…"

Yes…? Chalmers led. The man was practically boiling over with evident excitement. Jeremiah was astounded. Was Chalmers himself a Traveler? It was hardly likely, unless he was insanely bent on mucking up his own existence. Of course there was the possibility that he was from another parallel in the Multiplicity, vainly attempting to restore things to his own reference. But if that were true, Chalmers was a marvelously convincing actor, for he did have the innocent demeanor of the neophyte, not the calm assuredness of the experienced Traveler.

Well, Einstein began, "for instance, to get from here…to here, he clicked his chalk at the start of Chalmers’ New Physics definition of space curvature, you are making some impossible assumptions…and yet… he sighed and threw a hand at the definition. To do what you propose here, assumes the ability to bend space-time by some artificial means. This certainly cannot occur without harnessing substantial energies."

Chalmers shrieked and hopped into the air joyously. "You see it then, Professor Einstein! Nobody I have shown this to has even begun to recognize the implication… He turned to Jeremiah. Excuse me, sir, but I wonder if you see as well what I’m getting at here."

Jeremiah shrugged, he hoped innocently. It seems clear enough, if you assume the laws of physics have been tossed away.

Chalmers turned back to Einstein. You see? That’s what everyone else says.

Einstein said, It is little wonder, Mr. Chalmers, for Mr. Laing is correct. What you suggest defies physical laws.

Chalmers crossed his arms over his chest. "Alright then, tell me just why exactly."

Einstein pointed to Chalmers’ second sequence in his New Physics definition. Because here you introduce a directive force much more powerful than can possibly exist. There is no means to introduce such a large value with any modicum of control. Why, such a thing would require the manipulation of energies nearly equivalent to the output of our sun. He shook his head. No, Mr. Chalmers, I think you should direct your thinking to the more conventional…

Chalmers stopped him, now, with his own raised piece of chalk. What if I told you, Professor Einstein, that I have derived these statements from empirical observation, eh? What if I told you that I am fully prepared to demonstrate to you and Mr. Laing, there, the validity of my postulates?

The hairs on the back of Jeremiah’s neck stood on end. If Chalmers was not himself a Traveler, he must be the equivalent of a Mozart of astrophysics. Everyone thought Einstein was this, but Chalmers, with his equations, had already shown that he was leagues beyond even him. It was all starting to make a kind of grim sense.

Even if Chalmers had succeeded in constructing an apparatus which could harness the energies of the subatomic—a thing necessary to support his derivations—after his death it would not be recognized for what it was without his thorough explanation. If he had devised and constructed something of such magnitude in such a primitive culture as this, it was a monumental achievement indeed!

Jeremiah crafted some skepticism, but he did not have to pretend his eagerness. "This I have got to see!"

Einstein pushed out a lip. Indeed. He turned and stuck his head out around the door jamb to address his secretary. Jane, would you kindly cancel my session for this afternoon? Something has come up which requires my personal attention.

His secretary’s bowl-shaped auburn cut flew out to the sides as she turned her head to regard him. Of course, professor. Shall I reschedule for tomorrow afternoon? I’m sure most of the attendees won’t protest.

Einstein grinned toothily. Yes, thank you Jane. He turned to Chalmers. Lead on, Mr. Chalmers.

3

Portal

Sidney Chalmers’ flat was on the third floor of an unremarkable four-story brick-row, and its uncommonly steep staircase had Professor Einstein breathless halfway up from the second-floor landing. Chalmers’ apartment was Spartan indeed: there were no paintings or photographs on the walls, bureau or fireplace mantle, and a solitary centerpiece candelabrum decorated the dining-room table. Heavy maroon curtains were drawn against the gray light of the showery day which made it seem that it was evening rather than late afternoon.

Chalmers led them through the length of his rather narrow flat to its rear, and he paused at a dark green door. This is my laboratory, he announced, as he pulled out a small ring of keys from his vest pocket and used one of them to gain entrance. The door creaked on its hinges, lending, Jeremiah thought, a rather dramatic unfolding of Chalmers’ apparatus about which he gave tantalizing hints on the way here.

He had described his happening on a way to catalyze a reaction between two compounds which released great founts of energy, enough to make him fearful that he would be unable to stop its continued expansion. Only by hastily inserting a bar of brass between the two mysterious materials, he said, was he able to stop what seemed to him an uncontrollable reaction.

His laboratory, if that’s what it could be called, was more like an anteroom: its walls were lined with shelves populated by various containers and flasks, several of them filled with unknown substances, and a row of books authored by those Jeremiah recognized as prominent scientists of the time—Einstein among them. Interspersed were a workbench laden with various tools, a simple lathe driven by a leather belt, and in one corner a deep utility sink one would find in a laundry room…but there were no laundry implements here, aside from a wringer mounted askew on the rear edge of the right-hand well of the dual-sink arrangement.

But that was when, he went on excitedly, I first realized that I really had something, you see? For months I played with different controlling materials, but it turned out that my original bar of brass worked the best. Depending on its position and ultimately its shape, I could fairly precisely regulate the energy released from the apparatus.

Apparatus? Einstein gestured expansively at the cluttered room in which they stood. I see nothing remarkable here.

Chalmers grinned widely, and marched to the rearward wall and pressed his thumb against a faint vertical seam. Now Jeremiah noticed smudges on the wall’s deep blue paint where Chalmers had no doubt pressed his thumb many times before. There, an area roughly an inch square depressed and he heard a faint clanking sound and then the wall, from the floor to the ceiling, swung smoothly outward to reveal an interior so dark nothing could be seen. Chalmers reached in to flick a switch.

When the single incandescent light came on, Einstein blew a puff of disgust. "So you’re an artist, hmm? By your description I thought you were going to demonstrate the control of space-time or something exciting of that nature." He waved dismissively toward what appeared to Jeremiah as nothing more than five easels arranged at peculiar angles, each one holding a blank canvas. But there were no artist’s tools: no tubes of paint, no palette or any brushes or paint-knives. However, along one wall there were four shelves sporting quite the array of electronics tools, parts and other supplies, and on the floor sat an open box of fairly large, cylindrical carbon batteries with substantial thumb-screw terminals.

Einstein turned to leave. Come on, Mr. Liang. Let’s go. We’ve been made fools of, I think.

But Jeremiah had noticed thin wires which ran from the corners of each of Chalmers’ canvases to a red wooden box, the top of which sported three dials and a single toggle switch. Perhaps not, professor. Look here. He reached for one of the wires coming from the closest easel and glanced at Chalmers. May I?

Please, he said amiably. Feel free to pick over it as you wish, gentlemen. Perhaps together we can come up with a rather more eloquent way to describe the way it works. However, he warned, please do not disturb the easels or panels themselves, as they are critical to the alignment of the apparatus.

I think before we do that, Einstein said impatiently, I would appreciate this demonstration you promised Mr. Laing and me. I am a very busy man, as you might imagine, Mr. Chalmers.

Chalmers blinked. Oh. Of course, professor. Please forgive me. I get carried away sometimes. He motioned for Jeremiah to back away from the easel he was inspecting. You may want to distance yourself a bit, Mr. Laing. Until the effect settles in, you can be thrown around a trifle if you’re too close to it. Without further ceremony, Chalmers threw over the single toggle on the top of his red box. Please be patient, he went on, the tubes in the oscillator circuit must warm up before things start happening.

Oh, so you’ve put together a radio, Einstein observed. And these easels with the canvas are special antennae? He smiled. So what do you receive, Mr. Chalmers, Martians?

Chalmers laughed. "Now you’re talking science fiction, professor."

Yes, I suppose I…

Just then, Jeremiah felt a distinct tug on his gut which made the room feel like it was turning over on one end. It was a distinctly vertiginous feeling, and one he’d only experienced in his own time! Einstein had felt it, too, for his face bore a look of shock. Quickly, the feeling ebbed and then died out altogether.

What, in the name of God, was that!? Einstein hissed.

Simply the oscillator warming up, professor. Chalmers stated this calmly, though his expression betrayed great pride. Jeremiah was willing to wager that he and Einstein were the first witnesses of the operation of Chalmers’ device. Now that the circuit has warmed up, it should remain stable and balanced.

Balanced? Jeremiah queried.

Yes. In fact, that was a real pickle until I discovered how to control the oscillator’s frequency during changes in temperature and humidity. It was a simple matter, really, when I found I could do so using a secondary reference feedback oscillator… He went on to describe a crude servo circuit—very basic in Jeremiah’s time, and useful for things like regulating the speed of a motor, or in this case, the frequency of an oscillator. …and this dial, here, is used for controlling the amplitude of the effect. The other two are for direction, up or down.

"Yes, but up or down of what?" Einstein wondered.

As if on cue, there started up a sound which reminded Jeremiah of someone frying up some bacon. Chalmers pointed toward his easels. Look.

About a yard above the floor, there blossomed a fuzzy area, like a gathering cloud. This fuzzy area grew and grew until its center became opaque, like a tiny cloud hovering. At the edges of this effect was a thin ring of ruby fire, pulsating like a snake from hell, all the while the frying sound growing in volume. And then—it caught Jeremiah completely off guard—a bolt of violet plasma shot from that fiery snake to the center. And then another, and another, until in the center into which those plasma bolts shot there grew a small black dot…and the black of the dot was absolute! The sight of the thing was very familiar—and undeniable—for there was the accretion disk, the event horizon, and the center must contain the invisible singularity itself!

Dear God, man! Jeremiah blurted. You’ve succeeded in creating a black hole!

Chalmers and Einstein turned to him quizzically. Black hole, eh? Einstein said. What is that?

Jeremiah had to think quickly, but, being a historian, he dug from memory his savior. You remember John Michell, don’t you? The one who theorized the presence of invisible stars, rendered thus due to such tremendous gravity that even light rays could not escape them?

Einstein’s brow furled. I don’t remember him, but Karl Schwarzschild has already defined the radius of such a thing. For example, if you could compress the Earth’s radius down to 1 centimeter, then you would have your black hole. He didn’t think they exist and neither do I.

I’ve heard of Michell, Chalmers piped in. In fact, I came across his name in the library last week when I wondered if anyone else had done this. He indicated the fiery display which hung mid-air among his easels.

Jeremiah did a double-take and drew in a breath of shock, for the little black dot had grown in size sufficient to admit a man! That’s just not possible! he hissed A black hole that size cannot exist in such a confined… he stopped, as the others were staring at him. Besides, if what he was witnessing was truly a black hole, its peripheral effect should have encompassed a fair part of the Solar System, and the three of them—and the entire planet, for that matter—would have already been reduced to atomic components by its crushing gravity. But if it wasn’t a black hole, what was it?

I’m sorry, gentlemen. I was wrong. Evidently this effect is not what I thought it was. Obviously, it’s something else entirely.

Einstein’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. "And just what do you think it is now, Mr. Laing?"

Jeremiah gazed at the spectacle of a cerise ring of fire, from which violet streamers of plasma shot toward a central, ultra-black center. It looked like an artist’s rendition of a black hole, but he felt no gravimetric influence from it whatsoever—and he stood mere feet from it. It was like nothing he had ever seen before.

I have no idea, he said truthfully. He turned to Chalmers. Have you done any experimenting with this at all?

I should say I have, Mr. Laing. In fact, I’ve been able to produce several interesting results by introducing probes through the center of…whatever that is.

You don’t have a name for it? Einstein asked. Chalmers gave a negative nod. How about the Chalmers effect? he suggested.

Chalmers pressed his lips together. I thought of that one, but I wanted something more descriptive, do you see? I wanted to actually know what I am dealing with, here, before I went on to name the thing. For instance, since I can’t see anything through the portal, I can’t really begin to define, exactly, how it’s generated in the first place.

Portal? Einstein said with some excitement. Do you mean to say that you have been able to construct a mechanism with which to create a bridge between universes as Professor Rosen and I have speculated?

Chalmers shrugged. I suppose that’s a possibility, professor. However, I have my reservations. For you see, by adjusting the oscillator parameters, I have been able to produce many different results.

Jeremiah was fascinated. You mean with these probes you mentioned. Chalmers nodded. What sort?

Well, primarily I’ve used wooden poles. I poke them through the portal and move them round, you see? When I pull back, the end of the pole returns in various sorts of condition.

For instance? Einstein led.

For instance, the first time I did this it came back with the end cut off right at the black interface…

Interface?

Just a term I assigned, Mr. Laing, for lack of a better description. In fact, you’ll notice that if you move to the side, you’ll see that the whole arrangement is quite conical, with the black center depressed several inches behind the effect’s periphery.

Yes, yes, Einstein said. But what of this cutting-off of your wooden pole? By what means was it cut off? Did you feel anything on your end when this was done?

Oh, no, professor, not at all. In fact, when I withdrew my pole, I found, as near as I could tell, that the end had been burnt clean off, with the end still glowing like a coal in a camp-fire. In fact, the end of it burst into flame as soon as I pulled it back. He paused, smiling. "And when I increased the oscillator’s amplitude and repeated the experiment, my pole came back coated with frost!" It was clear that Chalmers was enjoying this moment. It was also quite plain he wasn’t finished, that he was about to reveal his pièce de résistance.

Evidently Einstein perceived this, as well, for he said, And have you experienced settings which cause no outstanding effect on your probe?

Chalmers’ eyes lit up. Yes! He raised a forefinger. And you’ll hardly believe me, I expect, when I tell you that I have stepped through that phenomenon myself!

Are you mad? Jeremiah blasted. You could have been killed, man… he stopped himself before spilling another oratory based on his future knowledge of science.

Thankfully Chalmers didn’t notice, as his pride got in the way. Yes, but I’m here and whole, aren’t I?

But Einstein was more perceptive. Mr. Laing, how could you presume to know the dangers of Mr. Chalmers experiment without empirical evidence?

As the experienced Traveler, Jeremiah was used to contriving diversionary explanations. He indicated Chalmers’ fiery display, which continued to crackle like frying bacon, although the sound of it, once it was fully dilated, had attenuated considerably. "Well, look at it, professor. Would you trust your soul to passing yourself through that?"

Einstein considered him for long moments. Finally, he said, No, I suppose I wouldn’t. Not without considerable experimentation, at least.

Which is exactly what I have done, Chalmers defended. I’ve been quite careful about it, I assure you. He sighed heavily. "Look; if you would like to join me, we can all step through and you’ll see that it’s perfectly