Michael A. Burstein - Reality Check.pdf - Michael A. Burstein - allforjesus2001

Reality Check

byMichael A. Burstein

Life wasn’t exciting, perhaps, but for the moment it was very secure, and David Strock preferred it that

way. He stood up at his desk and stretched, enjoying the comfort of the late morning sunlight coming

through the window of his spacious office. He looked around, taking in once more the size of the room,

the beautiful chairs, the overflowing bookcases, and the view of Boston outside. Not bad for someone

not even in his thirties yet.

He sat down again and hummed to himself as he shuffled the papers on his desk. This one, another

paper for peer review. That one, a proposal he was writing with his experimental colleagues. Really , he

thought, at some point I need to get back to doing real physics. It had been at least a week since he

had grappled with a problem.

Just as the clock read noon, there was an expected knock on at the door. "Come in!"

The door opened, and in walked Judith Pell. David smiled as she carefully closed the door behind her,

but left it slightly ajar. "Hello, David. What do we have today?"

David got up and began walking over to the small refrigerator he kept in his office, with a microwave

oven on the shelf above. Since Judith and he were the only ones nearby who kept kosher, David tended

to bring lunch for both of them every day. But their schedules meant that they usually only ate together on

Mondays and Wednesdays. "Sanbusaks. From Zaatar’s Oven."

"Mmm." Judith cut in front of David, opened the refrigerator door, and pulled out the white paper bag

which contained their lunch. "What kind did you get me?"

"Your favorite. The mushrooms and shallots with cashkavel cheese. And an Israeli salad."

"Good, I’m starving." Judith put the sanbusaks into the microwave and turned it on. "Let’s eat."

They went out to the separate bathrooms for the ritual washing of the hands. The men’s room was

slightly closer, so David waited for Judith to return before reciting the blessing over bread. They nibbled a

little of the sanbusaks afterwards, to complete the ritual, but then munched away on their salads, using the

plastic forks provided by the restaurant.

"Did you have a good shabbat? " Judith asked in between swallows of food.

"Yeah. Sarah’s still tired from caring for Yitzhak, so I made dinner."

"He’s what, four months old now?"

"Five months." David took another forkful of salad. "How was your shabbat? "

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"Oh, pretty good. Seth and I stayed at home, hid under the bed." She smiled.

David nodded. "I’ve had weeks like that."

"So what are you working on?" Judith asked.

"Nothing much," David said, immediately followed by, "Well, this is interesting." He picked a reprint

from a stack on his desk and passed it over to Judith. "Just got these today from Physical Review

Letters . I did the work about nine months ago, but the paper just got published. Help yourself to one."

Judith put her fork down on the paper plate and read the title and author of the paper aloud.

"‘High-Energy Consequences of the Many-Worlds Interpretation of Quantum Mechanics. By David R.

Strock, Massachusetts Institute of Technology.’" She rolled her eyes at David. "Oh, yes, real interesting."

David smiled back. "OK, I admit, it’s probably not going to shake the world outside of my field. And I

know it has no applications to your work on car–carbo–"

"Carbosilane dendrimers." Judith smiled. It got a lot easier to pronounce the name of a material when

you worked with it all the time.

David smiled back. "Right. Come to think of it, it has no applications at all from what I can tell. But it

was fun to do."

"Fun. Well, that’s why we got into science in the first place, isn’t it," Judith said, more as a flat statement

than a question. She put the paper back on his desk and continued eating.

"Well, yeah, fun," David murmured. He took a good, long look at his friend. "Judith, is something on

your mind?"

She put her fork down and stared at her food. "I don’t know. It’s just that–I don’t seem to be getting

anywhere. Four years of grad school and my project seems no nearer to completion than it did at the

beginning. Dennis is talking about lining up a job for me after I get my Ph.D., but then he has me working

on stuff for his projects, not for my own. The equipment he has me working on is outmoded, and breaks

down half the time, and when I point this out to him, all he tells me to do is fix it. I just feel like I’m

treading water, going nowhere." She looked up at him and smiled weakly. "I’m sorry to dump on you like

this."

"No, it’s OK, that’s why I asked." David thought for a moment. "I wish I could help. Do you want me to

talk to Dennis?"

"No! I mean, better I should handle it myself. I don’t want him to think I’ve been talking to other

professors about this."

But you are, David thought, then retracted it. Judith wasn’t complaining to another professor, she was

confiding in a friend. "It’s not like we’re in the same department. I don’t think he’d mind."

"I know, but still . . ." She trailed off.

David nodded. "I understand. Still, if there’s anything I can do for you–"

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"You’ll be the first to know."

They finished eating their lunch in silence.

* * *

David got most of his paperwork finished by the middle of the afternoon, and decided to leave early.

Still ruminating over what he might do to help out Judith, he sighed audibly. Physics problems were so

much easier to solve than real ones. What was that quotation from his high school physics teacher, Mr.

Borten? Ah, yes. "Physics is easy. Life is hard."

Just as he was gathering up his papers and getting ready to go, the phone rang. David stuffed the papers

into his backpack and picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hello," said a woman’s voice. "Is this David Strock?"

"Speaking."

"Dr. Strock, my name is Kristin Anderson. I’m a physicist working at the SSC."

The Superconducting Supercollider. David knew a few people who worked on projects there, of

course, but he didn’t know anyone who worked there full time. "Yes?"

The physicist on the other end of the line paused for a moment, then said, "We’d like to invite you to

come down to Waxahachie. We have a position we think you might be interested in."

"Me?" David asked, puzzled. "I’m a theorist, not an experimentalist."

"We do have theoretical physicists on staff."

"But–but I’m not working on anything relevant to the SSC, as far as I know." Most of his work dealt

with interactions that took place at far lower energies than that of the SSC.

"Actually, you are. Some of us here have become quite impressed with the work you’re doing, and we

want to meet you."

"Well, if that’s all, why not come up here to Boston?"

Another pause. "Isn’t there any way you can come down for–for a week or so?"

"I’m really not interested in leaving MIT. What’s this all about, anyway?"

"I can’t tell you over the phone."

"You can’t tell me over the phone? Is this some sort of joke?"

"No, it’s not a joke," she said quickly. "I’m serious. We’re working on something confidential here, and

we could really use your help."

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David thought for a moment. "I don’t have anything to do with weapons."

"Neither do we. We’re not Los Alamos, we’re the SSC."

"You’re not Fermilab, either."

"What?"

"I said you’re not Fermilab."

"I understood that, I just didn’t know what you meant."

"What I meant is that I already have an affiliation with one government lab, Fermilab. And I’m content

with those connections. Not to put too fine a point on it, but when I do have to go visit a lab I’d rather

have to go to a large city like Chicago than a small town like Waxahachie." Easier to find kosher food ,

he thought. "I know a lot of physicists would jump at the chance to work on the SSC," he continued

aloud, "but frankly, I’m not one of them."

"I think you might jump at this."

"That’s your opinion, not mine. But I’m really not interested in doing any work with the SSC. I’m sorry."

David thought that might end the phone call, but Dr. Anderson was still persistent.

"Doctor Strock–trust me. This is big. And we’re not asking for any sort of commitment yet. We just

want you to see something that we think will interest you. That we know will interest you."

The sincerity in her voice finally grabbed him. All things considered, David wouldn’t mind seeing the

SSC anyway, at least for a quick visit. After all, it was the pinnacle of experimental apparatus in his field.

"No commitment?"

"None. Just come down and see what we have to show you."

David could live with that. "All right, look." David checked the calendar on his wall; it was Monday, and

he had a class to teach tomorrow and on Thursday. But he could probably get someone to cover the

second lecture. "I can fly down Wednesday, but I have to get back to Boston well before sundown on

Friday."

"That shouldn’t be a problem. We’ll make arrangements for your tickets and call you tomorrow."

* * *

That night, David had a minor argument with his wife, Sarah. He had held off mentioning the phone call

until after they had eaten dinner and Yitzhak was asleep in his crib. They sat down on the sofa and turned

the television onto cable news, as usual. Then he told her that he’d be going to Texas for a few days, the

day after tomorrow.

"Texas? They want you to go to Texas?"

"It’s only for a few days," he said.

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"What’s in Texas?"

"The Superconducting Supercollider. You know, the SSC."

Sarah sighed. "David, it’s bad enough that you go out to Chicago every few weeks. What’s this Texas

trip all about?"

"I’m not sure. They may want to offer me a job." He shrugged. "I wouldn’t take it, of course."

"I hope not. We’re not doing another Los Alamos."

"Hey, Los Alamos was a nice town."

"But–"

"It’s OK, Sarah. I remember."

When David and Sarah had first been married, they had spent half a year in Los Alamos, New Mexico,

because that had been the only place David had managed to get an appointment. He had worked for one

of the theory groups at the Los Alamos National Laboratory. But the Jewish life had been practically

nonexistent, with one tiny Jewish Center hidden between a copse of trees and a canyon, and expensive

kosher meat only available by way of Albuquerque. David and Sarah’s presence had been such a novelty

in the town that the weekly newspaper, the Los Alamos Monitor , had done a front page article on them

when they celebrated Passover.

Thank God for the appointment to MIT.

"I remember," David repeated. "I wouldn’t want us to go through that again. Especially–"

"Especially now that we have Yitzhak," Sarah finished. "I’m surprised you would even agree to go for a

few days."

"I did arrange to come back in time for shabbat ."

"That’s supposed to make it better? I really don’t want you going."

"You know, Sarah, I don’t remember the ketubah I signed at our wedding prohibiting me from going to

Texas."

"It’s just that–David, it’s already hard on me, having to stay home and take care of Yitzhak. I feel so

isolated during the day. I don’t want you abandoning me."

"Abandoning you? What in the world brought that on?"

"I’m afraid of losing you."

"Losing me? Losing me to what?"

Sarah sighed. "To your work. I see the look you get in your eyes sometimes, when we’re at home, and

you run off to write something down on another scrap of paper. Sometimes it’s as if you’re not

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Michael A. Burstein - Reality Check.pdf

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