Doctor Who_ Atom Bomb Blues - Andrew Cartmel [78]
‘I was a particle physicist, working at the biggest, meanest particle accelerator ever built. And I was good, man. I mean, I was one of their top boys.
Until my equations started getting too way-out for them.’
‘Because you had discovered the possibility of interdimensional travel.’
‘That’s right. I was working on risk projection. Like, the possibility of the accelerator finding a rogue particle, man. The kind of particle that might destroy the Earth. . . ’
‘Like Teller’s chain reaction,’ said Ace. In her mind, facts were coming together, interlocking puzzle pieces, and she could feel a chill crawling up her spine. She was beginning to understand, and she wasn’t sure that she wanted to.
‘That’s right,’ said the Doctor. ‘One of the little-known facts about such accelerators is that they might bring into being particles that are. . . highly volatile.’
‘Like they could destroy the Earth baby. And maybe blow up the whole universe for an encore. So that was my job, man. To calculate the probabilities.
But it was wacky man. It was way out. What my calculations said. . . They said that the probability of a quantum catastrophe was directly related to the equations that predicted it.’
‘What the hell are you talking about?’ said Ace. The Doctor turned to her and smiled patiently, his eyes full of sadness, and forgiveness and understanding.
‘Ray means that any equation that could predict a doomsday particle with total accuracy would be part of the process that brings it into being. It would, if you will, cause it.’
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‘Cause and effect baby, cause and effect. All messed up at a quantum level.
But the bigwigs at the accelerator didn’t want to know man.’ Ray’s face grew troubled. ‘But there were other people. People who did want to know. Lady Silk and Imperial Lee is what they call themselves, though they’ve got other names. They found out about me and they came to me. They said there was something missing from my calculations. They said what I needed wasn’t just physics, mathematics, science. They said I needed magic, man. Their own brand of hoodoo. Magic and desire.’
‘Desire?’ said the Doctor.
Ray looked like he was going to cry. ‘They were using me man. I didn’t know it, but they were using me for their own nefarious ends. Because my equations showed what happened when reality broke down at a fundamental level, the level where the infinite number of universes overlap. Silk and Lee thought that they could use my calculations to cross over, to break into another dimension.
And they were right. But they said there was something lacking from my equations. Desire. And they were right about that, too.’ Ray looked at Ace and the Doctor. ‘Desire was the missing element. They told me if I cared passionately enough, if I wanted to cross over badly enough, then I could. We could.’
‘And what was it?’ said the Doctor. ‘What was it that you desired so badly that it enabled you to bridge the gulf between dimensions?’
The sadness left Ray’s face for a moment, to be replaced by blazing passion.
His eyes shone. ‘Well man, you know about the recording ban.’
‘The what?’ said Ace.
‘The American Federation of Musicians’ recording ban,’ said Ray. ‘In the 1940s, the musicians’ union wanted more bread. So effectively they went on strike. All professional musicians were forbidden to make recordings. They could perform live, but no recordings could be made.
‘And talk about savage ironies, man.’ Ray’s face was suddenly animated.
‘The ban kept Ellington out of the recording studio from July twenty-eighth 1942 to December first 1944. And that was his greatest period, his coolest band! The best jazz music ever made, and it all just vanished into the air. No recordings, baby, gone forever. Lost forever.’
The Doctor nodded. ‘That’s what you meant by what you said at the Oppenheimers’ party. About this music coming so close to not existing at all.’
‘That’s right, man! Back home, in our world, it doesn’t exist.