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Authors: Camille Minichino
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get you a copy. Also, since Janice Bensen and Leder have
registered guns, we checked them out. Both guns are clean."
I wasn't happy to hear that Leder owned a gun, and it
occurred to me that I ought to tell Matt about my bedtime phone call. Not yet,
however. Leder didn't threaten me physically, and I didn't want to scare Matt
into removing me from the case.
Whenever I could sneak a look, I glanced around Matt's desk
and file cabinets for telltale photographs, like a slim young girlfriend framed
in a bikini. I knew he hadn't remarried, but not much more about his current
status. There was only one picture on his side of the office—an older
couple in formal dress seated behind an elaborate cake, presumably his parents
at an anniversary celebration.
Matt sat forward in his chair, pulled a yellow pad of paper
in front of him, and picked up his pencil.
"One more thing," he said. "The security
guard saw a late model Corvette in the lab parking lot just before midnight. He
remembers that it was red and had out of state plates, but doesn't remember
which state. Sound familiar?"
"No. Not off hand."
"Okay. Let's move to the physics. Can you tell me again
exactly what this group has accomplished?" he asked. He'd twisted his nose
and set his face into a grimace. Frown lines appeared on his forehead.
"It's not going to be that bad," I said. I thought
of reciting the Fermi quote I'd used with Peter's students, but ruled against
it. This was serious business that I was getting paid for. I cleared my throat
and forged ahead.
"Under normal conditions, like the air temperature and
the pressure in this room, hydrogen is a gas," I said, trying to sound
friendly, as if I were giving directions to my apartment.
"For at least fifty years scientists have been
predicting that hydrogen could be made into a metal if the conditions were
right. But they also knew that the so-called right conditions involved
extremely high pressures. We've never been able to reach those pressures. But
now with lasers and modern electronics, we can create the conditions we need.
Are we okay so far?"
"So far."
"Furthermore, still talking about fifty years ago, they
predicted that although it would take extraordinary conditions to produce the
metal hydrogen, once it was made, hydrogen would stay a metal even at normal
temperatures and pressures."
Matt had been doodling, but I thought I saw him write an
actual word or two during my last sentence.
"And we care about this because ...?" he asked,
raising his eyebrows and tapping his eraser on his pad.
"Because if hydrogen can survive as a metal at room
temperature, it might be useful as a superconductor—able to conduct
electricity with no resistance."
"And that's where we get these special power lines and
the levitated railway trains?" Matt asked.
"Right," I said. "What Leder's group did was
the very first step—they claim to have made metal hydrogen that lasted
for about a millionth of a second. No one saw it, of course, but the data in
the group's printout says it was there."
Matt was getting into the swing of things. The frown had
left his face, and he sat back.
"So they're saying, we made metal hydrogen, so give us
money to get to the next step," he offered. "And the next step after
that way down the road, we'll give you trains that run in the air and perfect
utility lines."
"You've got it."
"Whoa," Matt said, using almost the same non-word
as when he saw my Cadillac. "How do we know they really made it?"
"There's nothing unusual about the way they're making
their claim. When we're dealing with something that's so small or lasts for
such a short time that we can't see it with our eyes, we have to rely on
instruments to detect their existence. This is where Jim's work comes in. He's
the experimentalist in the group. Jim's the one who designed the equipment that
tells us that metal hydrogen appeared for a brief time."
Matt nodded in a way that gave me hope about his level of
understanding, but before
registered guns, we checked them out. Both guns are clean."
I wasn't happy to hear that Leder owned a gun, and it
occurred to me that I ought to tell Matt about my bedtime phone call. Not yet,
however. Leder didn't threaten me physically, and I didn't want to scare Matt
into removing me from the case.
Whenever I could sneak a look, I glanced around Matt's desk
and file cabinets for telltale photographs, like a slim young girlfriend framed
in a bikini. I knew he hadn't remarried, but not much more about his current
status. There was only one picture on his side of the office—an older
couple in formal dress seated behind an elaborate cake, presumably his parents
at an anniversary celebration.
Matt sat forward in his chair, pulled a yellow pad of paper
in front of him, and picked up his pencil.
"One more thing," he said. "The security
guard saw a late model Corvette in the lab parking lot just before midnight. He
remembers that it was red and had out of state plates, but doesn't remember
which state. Sound familiar?"
"No. Not off hand."
"Okay. Let's move to the physics. Can you tell me again
exactly what this group has accomplished?" he asked. He'd twisted his nose
and set his face into a grimace. Frown lines appeared on his forehead.
"It's not going to be that bad," I said. I thought
of reciting the Fermi quote I'd used with Peter's students, but ruled against
it. This was serious business that I was getting paid for. I cleared my throat
and forged ahead.
"Under normal conditions, like the air temperature and
the pressure in this room, hydrogen is a gas," I said, trying to sound
friendly, as if I were giving directions to my apartment.
"For at least fifty years scientists have been
predicting that hydrogen could be made into a metal if the conditions were
right. But they also knew that the so-called right conditions involved
extremely high pressures. We've never been able to reach those pressures. But
now with lasers and modern electronics, we can create the conditions we need.
Are we okay so far?"
"So far."
"Furthermore, still talking about fifty years ago, they
predicted that although it would take extraordinary conditions to produce the
metal hydrogen, once it was made, hydrogen would stay a metal even at normal
temperatures and pressures."
Matt had been doodling, but I thought I saw him write an
actual word or two during my last sentence.
"And we care about this because ...?" he asked,
raising his eyebrows and tapping his eraser on his pad.
"Because if hydrogen can survive as a metal at room
temperature, it might be useful as a superconductor—able to conduct
electricity with no resistance."
"And that's where we get these special power lines and
the levitated railway trains?" Matt asked.
"Right," I said. "What Leder's group did was
the very first step—they claim to have made metal hydrogen that lasted
for about a millionth of a second. No one saw it, of course, but the data in
the group's printout says it was there."
Matt was getting into the swing of things. The frown had
left his face, and he sat back.
"So they're saying, we made metal hydrogen, so give us
money to get to the next step," he offered. "And the next step after
that way down the road, we'll give you trains that run in the air and perfect
utility lines."
"You've got it."
"Whoa," Matt said, using almost the same non-word
as when he saw my Cadillac. "How do we know they really made it?"
"There's nothing unusual about the way they're making
their claim. When we're dealing with something that's so small or lasts for
such a short time that we can't see it with our eyes, we have to rely on
instruments to detect their existence. This is where Jim's work comes in. He's
the experimentalist in the group. Jim's the one who designed the equipment that
tells us that metal hydrogen appeared for a brief time."
Matt nodded in a way that gave me hope about his level of
understanding, but before
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