Charmed Particles (18 page)

By early spring, copies of the feasibility studies the Lab had conducted began to circulate. These noted that it would be necessary to negotiate easements with property owners under whose homes and businesses the collider's tunnels would run.

Then came the draft of the Environmental Impact Statement, which the Department of Energy had commissioned and which the citizens of Nicolet and the surrounding communities were invited to respond to. The statements arrived in eighteen-by-twelve-inch cardboard boxes, one to each home in Nicolet and the surrounding areas. Inside were reams of paper bound together, their blue covers reading Volume 1 of 21, Volume 2 of 21, and so on.

On the day the draft of the Environmental Impact Statement arrived at the Winchester home, Lily dragged the box through the foyer into Randolph's study, slit it open with his ox-bone letter opener, and began reading, page 1, volume 1, red pen in hand for suggested corrections.

The collider ring will pass under farmland and residential communities.

Geologic suitability is outstanding. Perceived potential loss of home values is a key element of the strong landowner opposition.

Slowly, in the yards of some of the more vocal opponents, signs reading N
O
SSC, N
OT
U
NDER
M
Y
H
OUSE,
and N
OT
U
NDER
M
Y
S
CHOOL
began to bloom.

Sarala noticed these first, and wondered how long it would be before Abhijat, in the course of his commute through the neighborhood to the Lab, would notice them. It had not taken long.

Though the signs had sprouted up all around the neighborhood, Abhijat had managed to remain composed, if privately frustrated. But the first sign to go up on their own street was a different matter. It had felt, to Abhijat, very much like a personal attack.

The sign appeared one day in front of Ted and Sheila Miller's house, just a few doors from the Mitals. Sarala noticed it first. She'd felt a sudden surge of embarrassment and shame. The Millers knew where Abhijat worked, but still the sign stood starkly in their yard, like a message to her and her family.

Abhijat noticed it that night on his way home. He slowed and pulled the car over to the side of the street. To Abhijat, the signs seemed tantamount to putting up a large placard in one's yard announcing: “I am poorly educated and illogically fearful.” He couldn't imagine who in their right minds would be willing to publicly advertise such a thing.

Surely his own neighbors knew where he worked, that his career and the careers of hundreds of his coworkers were at stake. Don't you care, he'd wanted to shout, that you may cost people their occupations, their calling?

At the hardware store, Mr. Fricker, who'd taken a shine to this young mother who seemed, always, to come in without a husband, walked with Sarala through the store, helping her select the things she might need for the redesign of her yard: plastic trays in which to start the seeds, a small spade for when it was time to transplant the sprouting plants into the ground, potting soil, and slim envelopes of seeds. In the rotating seed display were flowers that reminded Sarala of her girlhood—orange, yellow, and pink marigolds—but she'd settled instead on an assortment of varieties in alternating arrangements of red, white, and blue.

As a bachelor who had lived alone all his life, Dr. Cardiff was a favorite dinner guest of the wives of the other Lab physicists, Sarala included, and when Abhijat's frustration over the steady stream of anti-super collider sentiment in Nicolet began to reach a crescendo, Sarala thought a dinner with Dr. Cardiff might cheer him up. Meena had asked whether Lily might join them, so the five of them gathered around the Mital dinner table one evening.

“And how is your father, Lily?” Sarala asked. “Where do his adventures take him these days?”

Sarala had introduced their two dinner guests, Lily and Dr. Cardiff, and now turned to explain to Dr. Cardiff that Lily's father was a—. She found herself unable to produce an accurate description.

Abhijat stepped in. “An explorer,” he said, nodding at his colleague.

“I see.” Dr. Cardiff smiled. “How very fascinating.”

“He's in a mountainous region of Tibet right now,” Lily said, answering Sarala's question. She could picture her father standing atop some peak, hand shading his eyes from the sun as he looked out over the rugged terrain ahead, plotting his next day's journey.

“You must miss him terribly when he's gone,” Sarala said. Her voice was gentle and tentative, and in that tone Lily recognized that what Mrs. Mital was really asking, what so many people always seemed to be wondering, much to Lily's irritation, was whether she resented her father's absence and travel. Lily evaded Sarala's asked question, and instead responded to the implied one, a tactic that tended to unnerve Lily's conversational partners, leaving them wondering if she was some sort of mind reader and, for many, ensuring that this was the last time they engaged her in conversation.

Sarala, though, was not so easily unsettled.

“My father knows me better than my mother does,” Lily said. “Sometimes letters are a better way to know someone than all of the silly, inconsequential interactions of daily life.”

Abhijat regarded Lily carefully. He thought for a moment, of the letters he and Sarala had exchanged in the months just after their marriage.

“And how is your outreach mission faring, Dr. Cardiff?” Sarala asked, turning her attention to her other guest.

“Well, I'd like to be able to say that I'm making headway, relieving some of our neighbors' anxieties,” Dr. Cardiff replied. “But I don't seem to be making the kind of progress I hoped.” Dr. Cardiff was a squarish, grandfatherly man with gentle eyes framed by large black glasses. Because of his skill at interacting with the public, Dr. Cardiff had been dispatched by the Lab director to speak about the super collider throughout the community. Of all Abhijat's colleagues, Sarala couldn't imagine anyone better suited to the job of representing the Lab to the public. She had always loved his soft, gentle manner, his courtly way of taking her hand in his by way of greeting.

Dr. Cardiff was a theorist Abhijat held in the highest regard, and was better than most of their colleagues at explaining the collider in terms that might be understood by a layperson. But perhaps more important, he was skilled at listening to the residents' concerns and at empathizing with them. Since taking on the role of spokesperson he'd attended meetings of the city council, of the school board, and of the various homeowners' associations. In doing so, he had quickly realized that the most important part of his outreach was simply to be human, to put a familiar face on “those scientists out at the Lab.”

In many of the sessions, though, he could tell that no matter how sincerely he tried to connect with the residents, to respect and respond to their concerns, there were many who thought of him as nothing more than a government stooge, someone dangerous to listen to. At one meeting, a woman had stood up and yelled, “You'll just show me something that will take away my fears, but it will be a trick, a Potemkin village!” And he had had to admit to himself to understanding why one might feel that way. This was science beyond what a non-specialist could understand, and at a certain point one would have to take a leap of faith, to trust the motives of those who did understand it.

Sarala, sensitive to the notion that, as a bachelor, Dr. Cardiff was so infrequently provided with a home-cooked meal, and to the amount of stress he had likely been under during the last few months, had wanted to prepare something that would, for him, be comfort food, and though he would have probably delighted in the chance to sample some of her mother's recipes, Sarala had chosen something she hoped he would find both familiar and reassuring.

“What is it?” Abhijat asked as she brought the dishes to the table.

“Kraft Dinner—macaroni and cheese—and Rice-A-Roni.” Sarala held up the boxes proudly.

She passed the serving dishes around the table as Dr. Cardiff continued. “It's an unenviable position they're in, many of our neighbors. To know the science here well enough to feel certain that this is safe would require an impossible investment of time and effort. There is nothing for them to do but to trust that we have their best interests at heart. Think of those of us here tonight,” he added, serving himself from the bowls as they made their way around the table. “Because you have the luxury of knowing Dr. Mital as a caring, ethical person, you can say, ‘Even though I don't know the science well enough to assess the risks, I feel safe in the knowledge that Dr. Mital would never support this project were there a danger to living or working on top of it.' However, not all of our fellow citizens have that luxury. And the way we have described this project has not always done much to earn their confidence.”

Dr. Cardiff had come to understand that for many residents, the Lab's attempt at simplifying the explanation by saying “We're recreating conditions not seen since shortly after the Big Bang” did more harm than good, leaving residents wondering, “Then what? After you recreate the Big Bang, then what of this world?”

What they should be saying, Dr. Cardiff had come to realize, and he had revised his remarks accordingly, was: “We're creating similar conditions in a controlled environment, but we're not recreating it.”

Lily leaned forward in her seat. “Dr. Cardiff, do you really and truly believe that there would be nothing dangerous about living on top of the super collider?”

Dr. Cardiff smiled at Lily. “I do, Miss Winchester, I do. If I had a single lingering doubt about this, I would most certainly tell you, and the rest of Nicolet's citizens. But if that does not reassure you, I encourage you to review the draft of the Environmental Impact Statement. Though,” he held up his finger in warning, “it will require a significant time commitment.”

“Oh, I already have,” Lily said.

Abhijat and Dr. Cardiff exchanged surprised smiles, Abhijat's full of pride in Lily, who had begun to feel like an adopted member of the family, and Dr. Cardiff's at the pleasure of discovering a kindred spirit, a generation removed.