[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.But you can’t be sure.Because one of the tanks may have a weakness that will break only after a period of pressure.So that’s an argument to fill all the tanks at the last minute.”“How fast can you fill them?”“Pretty fast.We have a fire hose down here.But to minimize stress, you probably want to fill them slowly.In which case, it would take almost two hours to fill all nine shields.”“But don’t you get field bucks starting two hours before?”“Yes — if the control room is working right.But the control room equipment has been shut down for ten hours.Acid fumes have gotten up there.It may have affected the electronics.We don’t know if it is working properly or not.”“I understand now,” Stern said.“And each of the tanks is different.”“Right.Each one is different.”It was, Stern thought, a classic real-world scientific problem.Weighing risks, weighing uncertainties.Most people never understood that the majority of scientific problems took this form.Acid rain, global warming, environmental cleanup, cancer risks — these complex questions were always a balancing act, a judgment call.How good was the research data? How trustworthy were the scientists who had done the work? How reliable was the computer simulation? How significant were the future projections? These questions arose again and again.Certainly the media never bothered with the complexities, since they made bad headlines.As a result, people thought science was cut and dried, in a way that it never was.Even the most established concepts — like the idea that germs cause disease — were not as thoroughly proven as people believed.And in this particular instance, a case directly involving the safety of his friends, Stern was faced with layers of uncertainty.It was uncertain whether the tanks were safe.It was uncertain whether the control room would give adequate warning.It was uncertain whether they should fill the tanks slowly now, or quickly later.They were going to have to make a judgment call.And lives depended on that call.Gordon was staring at him.Waiting.“Are any of the tanks unpitted?” Stern said.“Yes.Four.”“Then let’s fill those tanks now,” Stern said.“And wait for the polarization analysis and the computer sim before filling the others.”Gordon nodded slowly.“Exactly what I think,” he said.Stern said, “What’s your best guess? Are the other tanks okay, or not?”“My best guess,” Gordon said, “is that they are.But we’ll know more in a couple of hours.”06:40:22“Good Sir André, I pray you come this way,” Guy de Malegant said with a gracious bow and a wave of his hand.Marek tried to conceal his astonishment.When he had galloped into La Roque, he fully expected that Guy and his men would kill him at once.Instead, they were treating him deferentially, almost as an honored guest.He was now deep in the castle, in the innermost court, where he saw the great hall, already lit inside.Malegant led him past the great hall and into a peculiar stone structure to the right.This building had windows fitted not only with wooden shutters but with windowpanes made of translucent pig bladders.There were candles in the windows, but they were outside the pig bladders, instead of inside the room itself.He knew why even before he stepped into the building, which consisted of a single large room.Against the walls, gray fist-size cloth sacks stood heaped high on raised wooden platforms above the floor.In one corner, iron shot was piled in dark pyramids.The room had a distinctive smell — a sharp, dry odor — and Marek knew exactly where he was.The arsenal.Malegant said, “Well, Magister, we found one assistant to help you.”“I thank you for that.” In the center of the room, Professor Edward Johnston sat cross-legged on the floor.Two stone basins containing mixtures of powder were set to one side.He held a third basin between his knees, and with a stone mortar, he was grinding a gray powder with a steady, circular motion.Johnston did not stop when he saw Marek.He did not register surprise at all.“Hello, André,” he said.“Hello, Professor.”Still grinding: “You all right?”“Yes, I’m okay.Hurt my leg a little.” In fact, Marek’s leg was throbbing, but the wound was clean; the river had washed it thoroughly, and he expected it to heal in a few days.The Professor continued to grind, patiently, ceaselessly.“That’s good, André,” he said in the same calm voice.“Where are the others?”“I don’t know about Chris,” Marek said
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]