Vision Dance Science
Nadjinsky wavered at the verge of consciousness. He reeled in a mental spiral, unable to clear his thoughts. His own eyes forced a kind of aperture synthesis. He was so exhausted that he could not reconcile his own vision. His mind refused to blend the input from his own eyes into a resolved image. His brain was too tired to self-calibrate.
Who would have thought it? Valieri Nadjinsky, the unremarkable academic with the political savvy of a sea turtle. That he, of all people, would hit upon an observation of such magnitude. Just before his infamous discovery he had been demoted yet again. This was not new. Nor was it official. He had simply been systematically superseded by nearly every young buck that had joined the lab in his tenure. He fell behind by virtue of not advancing.
SVOSD Observatory had been so different when Nadjinsky had been brought on. His mentor was a true genius. Jerzy Ukastowitz had not only been a great scientist, but a man of deep principles. He believed that space was one of the few refuges of the peaceful physicist.
Those early years of Nadjinsky’s career were some of the most precious moments of his entire life. The opportunity to have worked with one of the greatest minds of cosmology in one of the most prestigious radio observatories in the world, it was an honor that Nadjinsky could not give himself credit for. Nadjisnky, with all his self-deprecating social awkwardness, gave himself credit for very little.
He was socially inept. This fact was painfully obvious. He was committed to the search for truth at all costs. The result was an inability to compromise. The line between conversational debate and confrontation was unclear to him. He just didn’t get the social cues that most people take for granted. He didn’t know when to back off. For that matter, he also didn’t get the cues to advance.
It was Jerzy’s insistence on international collaboration and peacetime research that was his inevitable undoing. Since Ukastowitz had been unseated the lab had become more of an enterprise than a monastery of science. As capitalism infiltrated the old socialist regime, the lab began to pander first to telecommunications firms from the west, and then to military interests. Once it had been privatized, wholly owned by an international conglomerate, everything changed. The caliber of scientists hired by the lab was perhaps the most striking example. The new breed came in groomed for posturing and politics. They knew enough science to be dangerous but their political and financial ambitions were far more aggressive.
In this environment Nadjinsky grew more and more isolated. He withdrew to his little corner, often exaggerating his difficult persona in order to carve out more space to work outside of the commercial projects now dominating their portfolio.
Tonight was to have been Nadjinsky’s night. He had been the first astronomer to observe the anomalous energy in the tail of the comet. The findings he published described an energy ribbon that revolved around itself in a non-circular and erratic orbit. His discovery had earned him the prestigious SLAVA award. Ever anxious to laud itself, his company had gone all out to celebrate with a black-tie affair. They imported delicacies from across the globe and hung banners. The event was heavy on posturing and marketing.
Nadjinsky had not wanted to go. He really just wanted to remain invisible. He loathed idea of feigned adoration from this swarm of mediocre sycophants all pretending to be his closest colleague only to appear in a photo with him in some socialite rag. After much deliberation he finally reasoned that by not attending he would be sending a message that would push him further into the light. The last thing he wanted was to make a statement. He was not an activist, he was a scientist. He would swallow his discomfort for a night rather than become some spectacle of idealism by accepting in absentia. That kind of arrogance really disgusted him. He would not be that guy.
He was not a regular drinker. He was too studious for that. But in trying to quell his discomfort the liquor must have snuck up on him. At one point he had found himself surrounded primarily by clients. These were executives in tailored tuxedos with wives virtually busting out of their gowns.
“So, Val, do you mind if I call you Val?” said an overly tanned man with a fat face and hair that looked dyed contrasted against his gray eyebrows. The man’s wrinkled frown lines wrestled with his tight eyes in an awkward age shift dysphoria. “Any places around here you would recommend summering? We’ve been thinking in investing in a little land out in the Eastern Block, maybe on a lake somewhere. Got any suggestions?”
“Where do you go to unwind after you come up with your brilliant ideas?” the woman goaded.
Nadjinsky swilled his vodka and excused himself but he couldn’t seem to escape. As the main event he couldn’t hide in a corner as usual. He wound up next to coworkers, sales and marketing types who were working their pitch. They patted him on the shoulder like old chums and introduced him as if he were a trophy.
“We only hire the best minds here at SVOSD. We focus on excellence here. Our technical resources are graduates from top universities. And they all have impeccable backgrounds, top level clearance. Only the best and you see the result. Award-winning researchers at work for you,” said the colleague as Nadjinsky pried the unsolicited arm off his shoulder.
The other coworker continued as Nadjinsky tried to back away. She seemed to be coming toward him without actually moving. He felt suddenly claustrophobic. She was looking at him but talking to the prospects “You know that we offer the most sophisticated satellite tracking systems in the world. We can guarantee complete monitoring with a five-nine SLA on access to all dashboards and reporting services. We offer a best of breed solution for both military and consumer verticals.” Nadjinsky bolted for the doors to get fresh air.
The crowd of cigarette smokers gave him no reprieve. The dusty air felt suffocating, thick and coarse. People were everywhere, and they all wanted him to make small talk. He ran for the bathroom and locked himself in a stall until he recovered his composure.
He waited in the stall until he heard the telltale quiet of silver on china and the din calm into dinner conversation. He felt completely vulnerable, still sweaty, his hands trembling as he made his way to his reserved spot at the front of the dining room. It was as if every eye in the room was trying to deconstruct him. He tried to eat, though his appetite was lacking, while blatantly avoiding conversation with the executives he had been seated with. They quickly turned their attention to one another, giving him a chance to drink a couple more shots. By the time that Nadjinsky was presented with his award he was well out of it.
He couldn’t remember exactly what he said, but he knew that it wasn’t very complimentary. At some point he remembered a long and awkward silence in the banquet hall. He remembered saying something about sacrificing integrity for accolades. He was pretty sure that he bemoaned the quality of the research and the lack of true investigation. One phrase kept repeating in his head. “I became a scientist to give with my mind, not to sell off my soul. I did not know that I would be expected to be a prostitute.”
At the end of his speech he had walked out. He had managed to find his way back to the lab, although he couldn’t quite recall how. He was exhausted and delirious. He was not so much drunk as lucid. He felt ashamed, and yet, he felt a rare sense of pride. He had spoken up for himself. He was known for arguing about ideas, but he never spoke up on his own behalf.
Now, reset by the strangeness of the night Nadjinsky returned with a newfound fervor to his work. Feeling the creative surge of self confidence mixed with confusion Nadjinsky sat at the monitor. It regurgitated the last imaging of the eAlpha ribbons taken before Aion disappeared behind the sun. Nadjinsky has looked at this same series of images so many times he could calculate its fourier transform in his sleep. At this point passive observation might get him further than conscious analysis, he thought, cynically. At this point, he was hoping for a revelation. Nadjinsky dropped back in his seat and rubbed his eye sockets. The sting brought tears to his eyes. Is it possible that eAlpha is a form of light which does not have a standard speed? He flips through his journal. The nucleus of the atypical atomic structure may have an orbiting counterbalance with a fluctuating mass that causes the barycenter of the eAlpha to shift. However, there does not appear to be a massive orbiter. If the barycenter is in fact shifting then some form of energy must be accumulating or escaping in order to have a similar effect on the nucleus. For the mutation of organic matter to correlate with the presence of eAlpha there must be some form of energy being released. Is a strong internal force altering the velocity and / or the angular momentum of orbiting electrons? This would explain why eAlpha does not appear to be radiating and its particles seem to follow a spiral, rather than a circular orbit. This would not, however, explain the mutations. A fluctuation in mass of the nucleus could potentially explain how an atomic structure could maintain spiral orbit. Though the escape of electrons creates lesser elements through radioactive decay, it has not been shown to change the mass of the nucleus. Perhaps these particles are not escaping but rather being drawn into the nucleus. Perhaps the particles are fusing with the nucleus, but if so, only for nanoseconds at most. Even if the nucleus is absorbing particles, some form of radiation must still be escaping. Still, the observed human mutations do not appear to be the result of classic radiation exposure. He’s fading fast into a cushion of hazy flashes. The cloud is swelling softer and he is slipping. He squints his eyes to blur the images of the eAlpha spiraling green monochrome on the screen. His need for sleep enhances the monochrome to Technicolor. His eyelids are a screen projecting his dream state. eAlpha is a movie playing over again and again on the inside of his eyelids. In the pool of his eyes, floaters waddle. Snap, inspiration. He bolts upright in a flash. “Virtual particles, it has to do with virtual particles.”
