Read Online Schrodinger's Gat by Robert Kroese - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Robert Kroese
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that much. I wonder what else he knows.
“ And Tali interfered,” he says.
“ She … tried to,” I say. Tried and succeeded, actually. Then she un-interfered, leaving things more or less as they would have been. Except that instead of going home, I went to Pier 39 with Tali.
“ Now who’s leaving things out?” Heller says, taking a sip of his coffee.
I decide to level with him. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know, Dr. Heller,” I say. “But Tali interfered with my life … made a choice for me that should have been mine. To make amends, she promised to explain everything. Why she interfered, what she was trying to accomplish, how she knew about all this stuff in advance. She explained some of it that day, and she was going to tell me the rest last night, but she disappeared. If you’re willing to make good on Tali’s promise, I will tell you everything that happened the day she disappeared.”
He seems skeptical. He probably figures it isn’t an even trade, and he’s probably right. Time to apply a little leverage.
“I suppose I could just go to the police,” I say. “Let them dig into what Tali was doing and see if they come up with anything.”
He regards me carefully for several moments . “Do you have a scientific background, Paul?” he finally asks.
“Does Mrs. Philips’ honors chemistry class count?”
He doesn’t crack a smile.
“I’m a high school English teacher,” I say.
“Did Tali impress on you the importance of not discussing this with anyone?”
“Yes, she did,” I say. “I’m not going to say anything, Dr. Heller. My only concern is Tali.”
Another long pause. Then he nods. “All right. Tell me what happened the day Tali disappeared and I’ll tell you about my work.”
I proceed to tell him the whole story, just the way I told you. Well, I leave out the part about looking down her shirt. A guy ’s got to keep some things to himself.
“Did she seem worried?” he asks. “Or frightened?”
“Frightened?” I reply. “No. Did she have something to be frightened about?”
“No, no,” he says, a bit too quickly. “ If I tell you about my work – our work – you have to promise not to say anything about it to anyone.”
“We’ve been through this, doc,” I say, getting a little irritated. “My lips are sealed.”
He nods and beckons to me to follow him. He leads me to a workshop that has set up in an old barn just behind the house. The barn’s exterior is made of redwood planks, most of which appear to be several decades old. One section of the barn has been recently repaired, though; the planks in this area still have some of the reddish hue of fresh redwood.
The barn doesn ’t look like much on the outside, but it’s a high-tech shop on the inside, with lathes, grinders, drill presses, welding equipment, soldering irons, and a lot of other stuff I don’t recognize. There are big tanks labeled Helium, Argon, and Nitrogen. In one corner of the shop is a neatly organized desk that I somehow immediately know is Tali’s.
Heller directs me to a workbench littered with electrical components: circuit boards, silicon wafers, batteries, capacitors, transistors, spools of wire and lots of other doodads and thingamajigs. He hands me one of the doodads. It ’s a black box that’s about the size and shape of my first cell phone, back in 1999. It even has a little rubber-coated antenna sticking out of the top.
“ What’s this?” I ask.
“ Psionic field detector,” he says. “I make them myself. I’ve got close to 300 of them up and running all over the Bay Area. I have Tali stick them on the backs of stop signs or on telephone posts, or wherever they won’t be noticed. They can run on battery for about a week, but the ones in the field have small solar panels connected to them to keep them charged. Every once in a while somebody will find one and take it down, but there’s enough redundancy that we always have pretty good
“ And Tali interfered,” he says.
“ She … tried to,” I say. Tried and succeeded, actually. Then she un-interfered, leaving things more or less as they would have been. Except that instead of going home, I went to Pier 39 with Tali.
“ Now who’s leaving things out?” Heller says, taking a sip of his coffee.
I decide to level with him. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know, Dr. Heller,” I say. “But Tali interfered with my life … made a choice for me that should have been mine. To make amends, she promised to explain everything. Why she interfered, what she was trying to accomplish, how she knew about all this stuff in advance. She explained some of it that day, and she was going to tell me the rest last night, but she disappeared. If you’re willing to make good on Tali’s promise, I will tell you everything that happened the day she disappeared.”
He seems skeptical. He probably figures it isn’t an even trade, and he’s probably right. Time to apply a little leverage.
“I suppose I could just go to the police,” I say. “Let them dig into what Tali was doing and see if they come up with anything.”
He regards me carefully for several moments . “Do you have a scientific background, Paul?” he finally asks.
“Does Mrs. Philips’ honors chemistry class count?”
He doesn’t crack a smile.
“I’m a high school English teacher,” I say.
“Did Tali impress on you the importance of not discussing this with anyone?”
“Yes, she did,” I say. “I’m not going to say anything, Dr. Heller. My only concern is Tali.”
Another long pause. Then he nods. “All right. Tell me what happened the day Tali disappeared and I’ll tell you about my work.”
I proceed to tell him the whole story, just the way I told you. Well, I leave out the part about looking down her shirt. A guy ’s got to keep some things to himself.
“Did she seem worried?” he asks. “Or frightened?”
“Frightened?” I reply. “No. Did she have something to be frightened about?”
“No, no,” he says, a bit too quickly. “ If I tell you about my work – our work – you have to promise not to say anything about it to anyone.”
“We’ve been through this, doc,” I say, getting a little irritated. “My lips are sealed.”
He nods and beckons to me to follow him. He leads me to a workshop that has set up in an old barn just behind the house. The barn’s exterior is made of redwood planks, most of which appear to be several decades old. One section of the barn has been recently repaired, though; the planks in this area still have some of the reddish hue of fresh redwood.
The barn doesn ’t look like much on the outside, but it’s a high-tech shop on the inside, with lathes, grinders, drill presses, welding equipment, soldering irons, and a lot of other stuff I don’t recognize. There are big tanks labeled Helium, Argon, and Nitrogen. In one corner of the shop is a neatly organized desk that I somehow immediately know is Tali’s.
Heller directs me to a workbench littered with electrical components: circuit boards, silicon wafers, batteries, capacitors, transistors, spools of wire and lots of other doodads and thingamajigs. He hands me one of the doodads. It ’s a black box that’s about the size and shape of my first cell phone, back in 1999. It even has a little rubber-coated antenna sticking out of the top.
“ What’s this?” I ask.
“ Psionic field detector,” he says. “I make them myself. I’ve got close to 300 of them up and running all over the Bay Area. I have Tali stick them on the backs of stop signs or on telephone posts, or wherever they won’t be noticed. They can run on battery for about a week, but the ones in the field have small solar panels connected to them to keep them charged. Every once in a while somebody will find one and take it down, but there’s enough redundancy that we always have pretty good
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