Theyâd tied one on the night before, thought Hazard. Evidence was the morning beers to get them going and the breath mints to cover up.
Kersh had just given them a tour of the place and was glad theyâd hurried through it. Neither Richland nor Whitley was really interested and, realizing that, Kersh hadnât bothered to explain the purpose of most of what heâd shown them. The special computer system, for example, located in a sealed subterranean area. It deserved more than indifferent glances and nods from Richland and Whitley. These computers were an accomplishment in electronic architecture, had actually been designed by other computers. Though extremely compact, they were insatiable. Their microprogramming allowed simultaneous feeding of unrelated information and rapid digestion to a simple, single response. This computer setup was not only analogous to a brain but to an entire nervous system. It had taken some of the best computer specialists several months to adapt it to the complex requirements of Kershâs research.
Impressive also was the experimental equipment Kersh had assembled for photography in a high-frequency field. The field was formed by two vertical, facing copper plates seven feet square. The plates were placed six feet apart, precisely parallel, and their rear edges were connected by an electrical Tesla coil. Initially Kershâs high-frequency-field experiments had been limited to still photographs, using a positive-type sheet film with a unique emulsion. However, not satisfied with mere stills, Kersh had successfully incorporated a means of electronically recording movement in the field. It fed into the computer system and back to various monitors. It was not an insignificant breakthrough.
In another laboratory area was the equipment used for X-ray crystallography, the photographing of defraction patterns on the micromolecular level. It was an XR â7 Polaroid system more advanced and less complicated than similar equipment used by Maurice Wilkens at Kings College, London, in his work that helped Crick and Watson come up with the double helix answer for DNA and RNA .
On seeing the XR â7 Whitley asked, âWhatâs this contraption?â and walked on before Kersh could answer.
Kersh was actually grateful for their indifference. Interest, he realized, might lead to involvement and involvement would undoubtedly bring some degree of interference. Kersh didnât want that. Besides, having to patronize those who control the purse strings was something Kersh had learned early in his career when heâd applied to a private foundation for his first research grant. The fact that big money held such a vital rein on science rubbed Kersh the wrong way, but by now he was pretty much resigned to it.
He led Richland and Whitley into his office. Hazard and Keven followed along.
In former times it had served as a formal reception room. Now it resembled a badly managed bookstore. Every inch of wall was shelved and that still didnât provide enough space to hold all Kershâs books. Heavy technical volumes were everywhere, many just stacked in the middle of the room, creating something of a maze.
Lunch was laid out on a low glass table. Sliced chicken sandwiches and coffee prepared by Kershâs young wife, Julie, who was seven months pregnant. When Kersh introduced her, Hazard detected a trace of smirk behind Richlandâs and Whitleyâs politeness.
Julie was a pretty, serious girl. Only three years before sheâd been active in protest marches and Central Park demonstration. Then sheâd found Kersh. She loved him devotedly, the way an honest searcher loves a discovery. In her present condition, a product of that love, she transmitted the serene confidence of a woman being fulfilled. Julie sat with them at the table only long enough to be courteous. Then she invented an excuse to leave, kissing Kersh a good-bye on his mouth.
By then Richland and
Kersh had just given them a tour of the place and was glad theyâd hurried through it. Neither Richland nor Whitley was really interested and, realizing that, Kersh hadnât bothered to explain the purpose of most of what heâd shown them. The special computer system, for example, located in a sealed subterranean area. It deserved more than indifferent glances and nods from Richland and Whitley. These computers were an accomplishment in electronic architecture, had actually been designed by other computers. Though extremely compact, they were insatiable. Their microprogramming allowed simultaneous feeding of unrelated information and rapid digestion to a simple, single response. This computer setup was not only analogous to a brain but to an entire nervous system. It had taken some of the best computer specialists several months to adapt it to the complex requirements of Kershâs research.
Impressive also was the experimental equipment Kersh had assembled for photography in a high-frequency field. The field was formed by two vertical, facing copper plates seven feet square. The plates were placed six feet apart, precisely parallel, and their rear edges were connected by an electrical Tesla coil. Initially Kershâs high-frequency-field experiments had been limited to still photographs, using a positive-type sheet film with a unique emulsion. However, not satisfied with mere stills, Kersh had successfully incorporated a means of electronically recording movement in the field. It fed into the computer system and back to various monitors. It was not an insignificant breakthrough.
In another laboratory area was the equipment used for X-ray crystallography, the photographing of defraction patterns on the micromolecular level. It was an XR â7 Polaroid system more advanced and less complicated than similar equipment used by Maurice Wilkens at Kings College, London, in his work that helped Crick and Watson come up with the double helix answer for DNA and RNA .
On seeing the XR â7 Whitley asked, âWhatâs this contraption?â and walked on before Kersh could answer.
Kersh was actually grateful for their indifference. Interest, he realized, might lead to involvement and involvement would undoubtedly bring some degree of interference. Kersh didnât want that. Besides, having to patronize those who control the purse strings was something Kersh had learned early in his career when heâd applied to a private foundation for his first research grant. The fact that big money held such a vital rein on science rubbed Kersh the wrong way, but by now he was pretty much resigned to it.
He led Richland and Whitley into his office. Hazard and Keven followed along.
In former times it had served as a formal reception room. Now it resembled a badly managed bookstore. Every inch of wall was shelved and that still didnât provide enough space to hold all Kershâs books. Heavy technical volumes were everywhere, many just stacked in the middle of the room, creating something of a maze.
Lunch was laid out on a low glass table. Sliced chicken sandwiches and coffee prepared by Kershâs young wife, Julie, who was seven months pregnant. When Kersh introduced her, Hazard detected a trace of smirk behind Richlandâs and Whitleyâs politeness.
Julie was a pretty, serious girl. Only three years before sheâd been active in protest marches and Central Park demonstration. Then sheâd found Kersh. She loved him devotedly, the way an honest searcher loves a discovery. In her present condition, a product of that love, she transmitted the serene confidence of a woman being fulfilled. Julie sat with them at the table only long enough to be courteous. Then she invented an excuse to leave, kissing Kersh a good-bye on his mouth.
By then Richland and
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