|
|
|
by Gary Cuba
Science Fiction, 5 pages.
Originally Published in Jim Baen's Universe, 2007
Rate this Story
Annemarie Schrödinger kissed her husband’s forehead on her way out of their Oxford house to do the day’s market shopping. Herr Doktor Professor Erwin Schrödinger smiled innocently and bid her goodbye.
It was a crisp autumn day in 1933, and the moist English chill made him miss his native Austria. But Herr Hitler and his anti-Semitic rants had lately tainted the spirit of his homeland, and Schrödinger had seen the way the political cards would soon fall. It was a timely and propitious move for him to come to England; as a new Fellow of Magdalen College, he had been recently honored with a Nobel Prize for his earlier work on quantum mechanical theory.
The front door closed behind Annemarie, and a devilish sparkle came into Schrödinger’s eye. The three physics honor students in his parlor, having risen in deference to the lady’s presence, sat back down and returned their attention to their Professor.
“Meine Students, we now have at least two hours to conduct our experiment! Klaus, die Katze, please grab him.”
Claude, a blonde-haired boy from Coventry, responded. He imagined Professor Schrödinger still calling him “Klaus” twenty years from now, after he had won his own Nobel for some as yet unknown conquest of physical theory. He slowly approached Mrs. Schrödinger’s male white Persian, LauLau, who was snoozing peacefully on the sunlit end table, and scooped him up in his arms. The cat looked up at him sleepily, his face wearing an expression of minor irritation.
They all descended the narrow steps to the cellar. The apparatus they had clandestinely constructed over the last week sat on a worktable there, dimly illuminated by the single light bulb on the ceiling. It consisted of a box, surrounded by a complex arrangement of mechanical devices.
“Franz, have you tested well the random generator?” Schrödinger asked.
Frank, a tall, swarthy boy from Dublin, moved to the table and pulled a Shilling from his pocket. One side of the coin had been anodized, its surface made flat black compared to the lustrous silver surface of the other side. He dropped the coin into a chute near the box. It tumbled down a series of nails protruding into the container, flipping the coin end over end until it reached the very bottom, hidden from view by a slat of wood.
“I did five hundred trials, Professor Schrödinger,” Frank said. “The coin odds are dead even, figured at a 99.9% confidence level. The photo-eye detector discriminated the correct coin side without fail.”
Schrödinger took a sealed glass vial from a closet and bent over the apparatus, affixing it to the interior of the containment box. He cocked a small spring-loaded plunger that would smash the vial the moment a control solenoid received an electrical signal. All was ready.
“Wilhelm, will you kindly verify the status of die Maschine?”
William, a slight, unhealthy-looking lad from London, checked the setup.
“Looks ready to me, Professor,” he said.
By this time, Claude was having a bit of a problem with LauLau.
“Would one of you colleagues please open the box now so -- [End of Preview.]