Read Online Newton's Cannon by J. Gregory Keyes - Free Book Online
Authors: J. Gregory Keyes
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vibration.”
“I'm still following you,” John said. “That's how aetherschreibers work—the mated pairs have identical harmonic qualities.”
“Yes, exactly. As does iron or glass or—” He paused significantly.
“—water.”
John stared at him. When he spoke his voice seemed almost strained. “You changed the ferment so that the matter in it was rewoven from water to ice.”
“Yes!” Ben crowed, clapping John on the back. “Of course, it is a very minor change, one that occurs naturally. After all, anyone can boil water—”
“But only by applying heat, thus changing the ferment in a cruder fashion. Your harmonicum does it directly.”
“As do any number of devices,” Ben reminded him. “The flameless lanterns operate by causing air to release lux. As you said, my device is a smaller version of the French fervefactum. Ever since Newton discovered the philosopher's mercury—the substance that can transmit vibrations into the aether—we have found ways to alter the states and composition of matter.”
“But this machine of yours is different?”
Ben smiled. “I think so. Because it can do two different things.”
“Freeze
and
boil water.”
“Yes. Most devices are made to mediate only one kind of change. My machine translates the vibrations of sound into aetheric ones—there is a small amount of philosopher's mercuryin its heart, which I got from a broken aetherschreiber. All I had to do was provide a number of possibilities—”
“Wait,” John said, holding up his hand. “This was strictly hit or miss? You had eight notes. What if none of them affected the ferment? Or what if the effect had been— It could have done
anything
.”
“No,” Ben averred. “I didn't think of this all by myself. An inventor named Dennis Papin designed most of the device. In fact, he used it to run a small boat. This device only affects water, and water has only three states—liquid, solid, vapor. By making the glasses different sizes, I thought the chances were good I could produce at least one change of state.”
“But this Papin's machine did not use glasses?”
“No. His doesn't use sound at all. He derived the proper vibrations of the mercury—and thus the aether—in the more usual way, by using an alchemical catalyst to set up the proper harmonics.”
John looked at him with what might have been awe. “By God, Ben, whatever made you think of using glass?”
Ben pursed his lips. “I don't have the faintest idea. No, wait, that isn't true. It was something my father said. He plays the fiddle. Usually he plays well, but the other night he was having difficulty finding the notes. And he joked, saying, ‘I have but to hit all the notes to find the proper one!’ and then he ran his finger down the string, sliding from one tone to the next. And something in here …” Ben tapped his skull.
“Something in there has a serious genius,” John finished for him.
“I had no real reason to think it would work, until you proved it on paper,” Ben confessed. “And then I reread books so that I could explain it to you if it
did
work. I've learned more this last week by experimenting than in three years of reading.”
“ ‘Hands learn quicker than eyes,’” John quoted, “ ‘and quicker by working than sloth.’” His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You already knew it would work because you've already experimented!”
Ben allowed himself a sly grin. “You have me,” he said.
“And then you pretended not to know that it would work.”John was getting angry as the implications sank in. “Ben Franklin, were you trying to fool me for fooling's sake?”
“No, John,” Ben said, feeling his face color. “It's just that … what if it
had
boiled my blood? I didn't want to risk my best friend in such a way.”
John's face changed; the anger blew out of it, replaced by confusion and mock severity. “Oh, well …”
“It's time we got going,” Ben observed. “Could you help me carry
“I'm still following you,” John said. “That's how aetherschreibers work—the mated pairs have identical harmonic qualities.”
“Yes, exactly. As does iron or glass or—” He paused significantly.
“—water.”
John stared at him. When he spoke his voice seemed almost strained. “You changed the ferment so that the matter in it was rewoven from water to ice.”
“Yes!” Ben crowed, clapping John on the back. “Of course, it is a very minor change, one that occurs naturally. After all, anyone can boil water—”
“But only by applying heat, thus changing the ferment in a cruder fashion. Your harmonicum does it directly.”
“As do any number of devices,” Ben reminded him. “The flameless lanterns operate by causing air to release lux. As you said, my device is a smaller version of the French fervefactum. Ever since Newton discovered the philosopher's mercury—the substance that can transmit vibrations into the aether—we have found ways to alter the states and composition of matter.”
“But this machine of yours is different?”
Ben smiled. “I think so. Because it can do two different things.”
“Freeze
and
boil water.”
“Yes. Most devices are made to mediate only one kind of change. My machine translates the vibrations of sound into aetheric ones—there is a small amount of philosopher's mercuryin its heart, which I got from a broken aetherschreiber. All I had to do was provide a number of possibilities—”
“Wait,” John said, holding up his hand. “This was strictly hit or miss? You had eight notes. What if none of them affected the ferment? Or what if the effect had been— It could have done
anything
.”
“No,” Ben averred. “I didn't think of this all by myself. An inventor named Dennis Papin designed most of the device. In fact, he used it to run a small boat. This device only affects water, and water has only three states—liquid, solid, vapor. By making the glasses different sizes, I thought the chances were good I could produce at least one change of state.”
“But this Papin's machine did not use glasses?”
“No. His doesn't use sound at all. He derived the proper vibrations of the mercury—and thus the aether—in the more usual way, by using an alchemical catalyst to set up the proper harmonics.”
John looked at him with what might have been awe. “By God, Ben, whatever made you think of using glass?”
Ben pursed his lips. “I don't have the faintest idea. No, wait, that isn't true. It was something my father said. He plays the fiddle. Usually he plays well, but the other night he was having difficulty finding the notes. And he joked, saying, ‘I have but to hit all the notes to find the proper one!’ and then he ran his finger down the string, sliding from one tone to the next. And something in here …” Ben tapped his skull.
“Something in there has a serious genius,” John finished for him.
“I had no real reason to think it would work, until you proved it on paper,” Ben confessed. “And then I reread books so that I could explain it to you if it
did
work. I've learned more this last week by experimenting than in three years of reading.”
“ ‘Hands learn quicker than eyes,’” John quoted, “ ‘and quicker by working than sloth.’” His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You already knew it would work because you've already experimented!”
Ben allowed himself a sly grin. “You have me,” he said.
“And then you pretended not to know that it would work.”John was getting angry as the implications sank in. “Ben Franklin, were you trying to fool me for fooling's sake?”
“No, John,” Ben said, feeling his face color. “It's just that … what if it
had
boiled my blood? I didn't want to risk my best friend in such a way.”
John's face changed; the anger blew out of it, replaced by confusion and mock severity. “Oh, well …”
“It's time we got going,” Ben observed. “Could you help me carry
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