with excitement and anticipation as the new pioneering frontier
began planet-hopping out across the Solar System.
And so NWRL Bonneville had been left with no purpose to serve. This
situation did not go unnoticed by the directors of IDCC. Seeing
that most of the equipment and permanent installations owned by
NWRL could be used in much of the corporation’s own research
projects, they propositioned the government with an offer to buy
the place outright. The offer was accepted and the deal went
through. Over the years IDCC had further expanded the site,
improved its aesthetics, and eventually established it as their
nucleonics research center and world headquarters.
The mathematical theory that had grown out of meson dynamics
involved the existence of three hitherto unknown transuranic
elements. Although these were purely hypothetical, they were
christened hyperium, bonnevillium, and genevium. Theory also
predicted that, due to a “glitch” in the transuranic
mass-versus-binding-energy curve, these elements, once formed,
would be stable. They were unlikely to be found occurring
naturally, however-not on Earth, anyway. According to the
mathematics, only two known situations could give the right
conditions for their formation: the core of the detonation of a
nucleonic bomb or the collapse of a supernova to a neutron star.
Sure enough, analysis of the dust clouds after the Sahara tests
yielded minute traces of hyperium and bonnevillium; genevium was
not detected. Nevertheless, the first prediction of the theory was
accepted as amply supported. Whether, one day, future generations
of scientists would ever verify the second prediction, was another
matter entirely.
* * *
Hunt and Gray touched down on the rooftop landing pad of the IDCC
administration building shortly after fifteen hundred hours. By
fifteen thirty they were sitting in leather armchairs facing the
desk in Borlan’s luxurious office on the tenth floor, while he
poured three large measures of scotch at the teak bar built into
the left wall. He walked back to the center, passed a glass to each
of the Englishmen, went back around the desk, and sat down.
“Cheers, then, guys,” he offered. They returned the gesture.
“Well,” he began, “it’s good to see you two again. Trip okay? How’d
you make it up so soon-rent a jet?” He opened his cigar box as he
spoke and pushed it across the desk toward them. “Smoke?”
“Yes, good trip. Thanks, Felix,” Hunt replied. “Avis.” He inclined
his head toward the window behind Borlan, which presented a
panoramic view of pine-covered hills tumbling down to the distant
Columbia. “Some scenery.”
“Like it?”
“Makes Berkshire look a bit like Siberia.”
Borlan looked at Gray. “How are you keeping, Rob?”
The corners of Gray’s mouth twitched downwards. “Gutrot.”
“Party last night at some bird’s,” Hunt explained. “Too little
blood in his alcohol stream.”
“Good time, huh?” Borlan grinned. “Take Francis along?” “You’ve got
to be joking!”
“Jollificating with the peasantry?” Gray mimicked in the impeccable
tones of the English aristocracy. “Good God! Whatever next!”
They laughed. Hunt settled himself more comfortably amid a haze of
blue smoke. “How about yourself, Felix?” he asked. “Life still
being kind to you?”
Borlan spread his arms wide. “Life’s great.”
“Angie still as beautiful as the last time I saw her? Kids okay?”
“They’re all fine. Tommy’s at college now-majoring in physics and
astronautical engineering. Johnny goes hiking most weekends with
his club, and Susie’s added a pair of gerbils and a bear cub to the
family zoo.”
“So you’re still as happy as ever. The responsibilities of power
aren’t wearing you down yet.”
Borlan shrugged and showed a row of pearly teeth. “Do I look like
an ulcerated nut midway between heart attacks?”
Hunt regarded the blue-eyed, deep-tanned figure with close-cropped
fair hair as Borlan sprawled relaxedly on the other side of the
broad mahogany desk. He looked at least ten years younger than the
president of any intercontinental corporation had a right to.
For a while the small talk revolved around internal affairs at
Metadyne. At last a natural pause presented itself. Hunt sat
forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and contemplated the last
drop of amber liquid in his glass as he swirled it around first
from right to left and then back again. Finally he looked up.