Роберт Ричардсон - The Xi Effect

By the evening of the 27th public curiosity over what Friedmann would say had been excited to such a degree, that it was necessary to keep the man’s whereabouts a profound secret to prevent him from being mobbed on sight. By five o’clock every street leading toward the coliseum was blocked solid with cars for miles around, and by seven o’clock more than a hundred thousand people had jammed themselves into the vast structure, while thousands more milled around the walls outside seeking entrance. Although the Los Angeles Police Department had every man available on duty in addition to two hundred special officers hired from outlying districts, they were able to maintain order only with considerable difficulty. An attitude of reckless abandon was manifest even among ordinarily well-behaved individuals. It was a holiday crowd without the holiday spirit.

“I’m not at all sure Friedmann is the best man to talk to these people tonight,” said Arnold, standing up and gazing uneasily around him at the throngs still climbing up and down the aisles in search of seats. “They’ve come here confidently expecting to be told something that sounds nice and reassuring and instead Friedmann will simply hand them the hard cold facts. We scientists have known the truth for weeks and had a chance to become reconciled to it. But what about the average man whose cosmic outlook is limited to his job and the mortgage on his home out in Brentwood?”

“Be quite a blow to ’em probably,” said Stoddard, biting into his hot dog. “Trouble with these theoretical fellows is they act as if the Xi effect had been invented for the sole purpose of letting them test out all their screwy ideas on nuclear structure.”

Arnold sat down and began studying his program. “I see Atchison Kane is going to speak, too.”

“Atchison Kane. Who’s he?”

“Shakespearean actor,” Arnold replied. Long ago he had become accustomed to his partner’s splendid state of isolation from the world of the stage and screen. “Made a big hit in ‘Richard the Third’ recently. I heard him at the Philharmonic last August.”

“That so?” said Stoddard. For the tenth time he looked at the great clock over the archway at the east entrance. “What’s holding up the procession, anyhow? They were supposed to kickoff half an hour ago.”

Others besides Stoddard were getting impatient. So far the crowd had been fairly well-behaved but now it was growing decidedly restless. Someone yelled, “We want Friedmann!” and in an instant thousands of voices were repeating the words over and over in a kind of savage chant. When this failed to produce results, a mob of boys acting as if upon signal, leaped over the parapet onto the field toward the speakers’ stand. Before the police could intervene they began tearing down the decorations and smashing the chairs and railing. The dozen or so officers in the vicinity were overwhelmed at first but reinforcements soon gained the upper-hand. The crowd was delighted, following every incident of the struggle with, fascinated attention. Several men were knocked down and trampled in the melee, or sent reeling from the battle bleeding from lacerations around the head. Suddenly a great shout went up. The speakers surrounded by a husky squad of police were spotted emerging from the south entrance. Interest in the fight evaporated immediately. The floodlights were dimmed and an expectant hush fell over the assemblage.

After the usual preliminaries, to which no one paid the slightest attention, the chairman of the National Scientific Security Council finally got around to introducing the main speaker.

“In the brief span that this committee has been in existence, citizens from all parts of the southland have been besieging us with questions concerning this effect which has been uppermost in the thoughts of each and everyone of us during these last troubled days. Unfortunately, no funds were appropriated for the purpose of answering these questions. And yet as representatives of the people we felt in all sincerity that they could not and must not be ignored.”

The burst of applause at this point forced him to halt briefly until quiet reigned again and he was able to gather himself together for another effort.

“In view of this situation, my colleagues and I, after due deliberation, have asked our distinguished speaker if in lieu of a formal address he would consent to answer a set of representative questions selected by the committee. To this request I am happy to say that our speaker has most willingly and graciously given his consent.”

“And now without further ado, it is my great pleasure and privilege this evening to present to you a man whom I am sure needs no introduction from me, that renowned scientist and scholar, Dr. Karl Gustav Friedmann.”

From the uproarious applause that greeted Friedmann as he stepped to the front of the platform, it might have been supposed that he had discovered another Santa Claus instead of an effect that was relentlessly extinguishing the light of the world. He shook hands with the chairman, bowed a few degrees in the general direction of the crowd, and then stood quietly waiting for the tumult to subside. The chairman nervously riffled through the cards in his hand, selected one, and peered at it through his bifocals.

“Our first qustion is from a housewife in Long Beach,” he announced. “She says, ‘My husband has lost his job as radio salesman on account of the Xi effect. How soon will it be over so he can go back to work again?

Friedmann’s voice was as unemotional as if he were lecturing half a dozen sleepy students rather than a crowd of a hundred thousand that were hanging on his every word. “I think that question may be answered by reading a message from the National Bureau of Standards which was handed to me as I entered the coliseum here tonight. Here is the message: ‘Spectroscopic laboratory reports sudden marked acceleration Xi effect. Cutoff 5500 at 0000 GCT.’ Now in plain language what does this mean? It means that at four o’clock this afternoon the extinction of radiation extended nearly to the green.” He hesitated. “I regret to inform the lady that her husband will never he able to return to his work. Why? Because so little while is left to us that no time remains for either work or play.”

An excited uneasy murmur swept around the coliseum that rose to a sharp peak then hastily died away as the chairman selected another card. “Our second question is from a man in Pomona who signs himself ‘Taxpayer’. His letter is too long to read in full so that I must confine myself to his inquiry at the end. ‘If scientists knew light was going to be extinguished, then why didn’t they get busy and do something about it a long time ago? The government makes me pay taxes so scientists can sit in their laboratories and hatch these wild theories. But when danger comes along they’re just as helpless as the rest of us.’ ”

The letter provoked a good deal of laughter mingled with a surprising amount of hand-clapping. The humor of the situation, however, was wholly lost on Friedmann. “What would do?” he demanded in a voice that was openly contemptuous. “Does he think they deliberately create the lightning that destroys a tree? Or the earthquake that engulfs a city? Well, I can assure him that these are nothing compared to the force that threatens us now. But before he criticizes science let him first learn something about it—go back to grammar school or read some little children’s hook.”

There was a-timid scattering of applause that was soon drowned in a chorus of boos and catcalls from all sides. One could sense the rising tide of resentment and frustration underneath.

“What did I tell you?” Arnold shouted. “They aren’t going to take it.”

Stoddard hunched down farther in his seat. “If you ask me all hell’s going to break loose here in another minute.”