Carl Frederick: Howl of the Seismologist

Alex, puzzled, followed his dog into the room. The room lay completely in darkness. “Excuse me,” Alex called over his shoulder to the police officer. “Could you shine your light in here?”

“Yeah. Sure.” The officer directed his beam into the room and then he took a couple of steps inside.

Alex saw Wegener on-point, his muzzle aimed at a small glassine envelope and a strawlike tube next to it on a table.

Staring at the items, Alex shrugged. “I have no idea what this stuff is.”

Decker walked into the room, glanced at the table, and scowled.

“I’m afraid I know what it is,” said the officer in a grave voice. He stepped up to the table, shined his light on the items and, almost in the way Wegener would, sniffed at the envelope. Then he stood erect, swiveled around, walked out and up to the director, urging him away from the others.

“Wonder what’s going on,” said Alex as he and Wegener left the room.

“I imagine,” said Decker, following behind, “that our esteemed director is about to be arrested for drug possession.”

Alex swiveled around. “What?”

“No surprise,” said Decker, including Katerina and Takeo in the conversation. “The board’s suspected it for some time. But there’s been no proof.” He glanced forward at the police officer, who seemed in a heavy dispute with the director—”Until now.”

The officer and the director walked toward the entrance. Alex and the others followed at a respectful distance.

“This isn’t exactly good publicity for Fermilab,” Alex whispered.

“No, it isn’t,” said Decker, softly.

As they emerged into the sunlight, Alex saw the officer ushering the director into a police car.

“What do you think will happen with Fermilab?” said Katerina.

“I suspect the board will replace the director,” said Decker, his eyes on the police car, “with me, I suppose.” He looked back toward the entrance. “I don’t know if we will rebuild with the new magnets,” he said, almost to himself. “The baton is passed to CERN.” He swiveled around and smiled at Alex and Katerina. “But I assure you,” he said, “I’ll make certain that the LHC and the Tevatron are never powered up at the same time.”

“Wonderful,” said Katerina. She also looked back at the entrance. “I wonder if everyone’s gotten out safely.”

“It is likely,” said Takeo.

Alex, though, was preoccupied with worry. “I can’t tell,” he said, softly, thinking aloud to himself. “I can’t tell if there’ll be aftershocks.”

“There is nothing to be gained here,” said Takeo, abruptly. He turned to Alex. “Better might be a return to the picnic table.”

Alex waited for more.

Takeo smiled. “Perhaps now, that nice game of chess?”

“Now? You want to play chess now?”

“If one worries about aftershocks, a weighted chess set can be provided.”

Alex marveled at the man’s monomania. “Later, perhaps.”

Takeo nodded at Alex and then to Katerina, and then walked away toward the village.

Katerina leaned down and ruffled Wegener’s fur. “I guess there is such a thing as a forensic seismologist.” She stood upright and laughed.

“What?” said Alex.

“Oh… Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

“I was just thinking.” Katerina pursed her lips. “Wegener sort of fits your definition of a good seismologist.”

“Oh?”

“By getting rid of the director,” said Katerina with a sly smile, “Wegener has actually averted a big quake.”

Alex threw a glance at his dog—at his competitor.

“So the dog is a seismologist,” said Katerina with a dismissive wave of a hand. “So what?” She touched Alex gently on the upper arm. “One doubts, as Takeo might say, if the dog can play a good game of chess.” She paused. “Do you understand my meaning?”

For a moment, Alex stood there, puzzled. Then he smiled with the revelation that he himself was as monomaniacal as was Takeo. “Yes,” he said. “I think I do.” Alex bent and scratched Wegener between the ears.