organisation before his arrival, but what the websites failed
to portray was the sheer size of the campus, sprawling off into the distance,
where it seemed to meet the base of the Jura mountains. The buildings were
mainly utilitarian in their design and reminded Tom of his own university’s
campus - function before form. He could see that the architects had at
least tried to establish a pleasant environment to work in, by spreading the
buildings out and creating ‘green spaces’ in between, which were laid mainly to
lawn. Trees seemed to have been randomly planted in clumps or in rows around
car parks in an effort to break up the concrete monotony.
He could see a giant dome in the distance, like a
half-buried golf ball, which he recognised from his Internet research as the
Globe of Science and Innovation, a visitor centre, frequented mainly by schools
and visiting dignitaries. Next to that was a private runway with a single
corrugated steel hangar built adjacent to it. He knew that everything above
ground was only the tip of the iceberg. The real work went on three hundred
feet below ground where the Collider was buried; this was not just for
aesthetic and financial reasons (it would have been so much more costly to tear
up the Franco-Swiss countryside and implant an ugly grey tunnel over its
farms), but also because the Earth provides the greatest radioactive shielding.
They drove to the facility’s main reception building, a
six-storey-high concrete and glass structure, which housed the control centre
and ancillary offices.
As they stepped out of the car, Tom noticed a bronze statue
incongruously erected outside the entrance to the building. Its intricate
detail and delicate features were at odds with its modern minimalist
surroundings and would have been more at home in a museum or temple, rather
than a research facility. The six-foot high statue depicted a semi-naked dancer
of Asian origin, wearing an ornamental headdress and encircled by a ring of
flames. He had four arms, two of which held objects, flames in one hand and an
hourglass in the other. He posed with his left leg elegantly raised, balancing
on what appeared to be a prostrate dwarf holding a cobra.
‘That is Shiva Nataraja, Lord of the Dance,’ Ajay
volunteered, noticing Tom’s frown.
The explanation did nothing to relieve Tom’s expression.
Ajay tried again. ‘It’s a Hindu god.’
Tom’s frown deepened. ‘But why is it here?’
‘It was a gift from my government.’ Ajay hoped this would be
enough to satisfy Tom’s curiosity.
‘Oh, I see,’ said Tom, not really seeing at all, but sensing
that he wouldn’t get much more information out of Ajay. He therefore made a
mental note to ask Frederick more about its significance as he walked past it
and through the revolving doors into the building.
Frederick was waiting in reception to greet him; he had
obviously been informed of Tom’s arrival by the security guard.
‘Tom, you made it at last! Welcome to CERN.’ Frederick shook
Tom’s hand, warmly. ‘I trust Ajay has been looking after you?’
‘Yes, he’s been quite entertaining,’ replied Tom, directing
his comments at Ajay with a smile.
‘Good! Ajay, could you please take Professor Halligan’s bags
to his room in the accommodation block. Thank you,’ Frederick said to Ajay,
dismissing him. ‘Come, let me introduce you to the rest of the team. They’re
dying to meet you.’ Frederick put his arm around Tom’s shoulders and guided him
through the frosted glass doors at the end of the reception area.
‘What’s the story with Ajay?’ Tom asked, as he was being
escorted down a long, white, sterile corridor.
‘You could say that Ajay is my ward,’ Frederick explained.
‘I promised his father, before he died, that I would look after him and make
sure he would come to no harm. He’s a simple soul, not academically bright,
unlike his father and grandfather.’
‘Yes, Ajay did mention that he was Satyendra
to portray was the sheer size of the campus, sprawling off into the distance,
where it seemed to meet the base of the Jura mountains. The buildings were
mainly utilitarian in their design and reminded Tom of his own university’s
campus - function before form. He could see that the architects had at
least tried to establish a pleasant environment to work in, by spreading the
buildings out and creating ‘green spaces’ in between, which were laid mainly to
lawn. Trees seemed to have been randomly planted in clumps or in rows around
car parks in an effort to break up the concrete monotony.
He could see a giant dome in the distance, like a
half-buried golf ball, which he recognised from his Internet research as the
Globe of Science and Innovation, a visitor centre, frequented mainly by schools
and visiting dignitaries. Next to that was a private runway with a single
corrugated steel hangar built adjacent to it. He knew that everything above
ground was only the tip of the iceberg. The real work went on three hundred
feet below ground where the Collider was buried; this was not just for
aesthetic and financial reasons (it would have been so much more costly to tear
up the Franco-Swiss countryside and implant an ugly grey tunnel over its
farms), but also because the Earth provides the greatest radioactive shielding.
They drove to the facility’s main reception building, a
six-storey-high concrete and glass structure, which housed the control centre
and ancillary offices.
As they stepped out of the car, Tom noticed a bronze statue
incongruously erected outside the entrance to the building. Its intricate
detail and delicate features were at odds with its modern minimalist
surroundings and would have been more at home in a museum or temple, rather
than a research facility. The six-foot high statue depicted a semi-naked dancer
of Asian origin, wearing an ornamental headdress and encircled by a ring of
flames. He had four arms, two of which held objects, flames in one hand and an
hourglass in the other. He posed with his left leg elegantly raised, balancing
on what appeared to be a prostrate dwarf holding a cobra.
‘That is Shiva Nataraja, Lord of the Dance,’ Ajay
volunteered, noticing Tom’s frown.
The explanation did nothing to relieve Tom’s expression.
Ajay tried again. ‘It’s a Hindu god.’
Tom’s frown deepened. ‘But why is it here?’
‘It was a gift from my government.’ Ajay hoped this would be
enough to satisfy Tom’s curiosity.
‘Oh, I see,’ said Tom, not really seeing at all, but sensing
that he wouldn’t get much more information out of Ajay. He therefore made a
mental note to ask Frederick more about its significance as he walked past it
and through the revolving doors into the building.
Frederick was waiting in reception to greet him; he had
obviously been informed of Tom’s arrival by the security guard.
‘Tom, you made it at last! Welcome to CERN.’ Frederick shook
Tom’s hand, warmly. ‘I trust Ajay has been looking after you?’
‘Yes, he’s been quite entertaining,’ replied Tom, directing
his comments at Ajay with a smile.
‘Good! Ajay, could you please take Professor Halligan’s bags
to his room in the accommodation block. Thank you,’ Frederick said to Ajay,
dismissing him. ‘Come, let me introduce you to the rest of the team. They’re
dying to meet you.’ Frederick put his arm around Tom’s shoulders and guided him
through the frosted glass doors at the end of the reception area.
‘What’s the story with Ajay?’ Tom asked, as he was being
escorted down a long, white, sterile corridor.
‘You could say that Ajay is my ward,’ Frederick explained.
‘I promised his father, before he died, that I would look after him and make
sure he would come to no harm. He’s a simple soul, not academically bright,
unlike his father and grandfather.’
‘Yes, Ajay did mention that he was Satyendra
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