A Man from U.N.C.L.E. Story
by Darklady
Chapter Forty: If I Knew
Rated: PG
****
I stroll across the well kept lawn, taking the opportunity to check out the scene. It is very pretty. Very green. Freshly painted buildings and well scrubbed students with 'individualistic' jeans and t-shirts worn as the uniform of their supposed diversity. Abstract modern sculpture surrounded by geometric Victorian flower beds. Almost a movie-set parody of the campuses I have known.
This section of the campus is quiet. A few young women are skating around the parking lot, and one affectionate couple at the far end of the lawn is pretending to study between kisses, but otherwise the area is nearly empty. In this section, only one man sits reading on the bench in front of the Sciences building.
"Dr. Allen Decker?" I find it improbable that the middle aged man in faded denim with his graying hair pulled back in a pony-tail is the world-renowned scholar I have come 300 miles to meet, but there is no other likely candidate visible.
"Dr. Kuryakin?" The man gives me a through if quick inspection, but his face indicates nothing of his conclusions. Merely a relaxed and general good humor.
"Yes." I hold out my hand.
He shakes it firmly. "Allen. Please."
"Illya Nickovetch." I glance casually at the book he was reading. Something rather serious looking in German. "My apologies for being late. There was an accident on the road behind me."
"Late?" He looks up at the clock tower over at the administration building. "It's 10:45. That's early by beach time."
"I am still getting used to American ways."
He smiles. "Not sure you'll find any here - at least not that Lompoc crew would claim.They'll tell you most of our students are majoring in surfing. Not true." After a moment, he adds, "Well, not entirely true. Although we do have our share of beach bums." He nods to indicate the direction, then heads off across the lawn at a rapid pace. "Don't let that spook you. Whatever you're into is cool here. This is a pretty eclectic campus, so if you hang around you're bound to fit in somewhere. I have an office up there...," which by his gesture I assume means the Sciences building, "but the suits have this weird thing about locking up at night. So we all moved over to the lab annex."
Waving me to follow, he takes off down the path that winds behind a screen of oleander bushes. I follow him past several temporary structures set on a bare lot in what I had assumed was a construction area. A few cars are scattered on the hard dirt at seeming random.
"More space here," he continues, "and housekeeping doesn't bitch at us about the espresso machine. Not to mention we all get parking right at the door."
He strides up to a low concrete block building with air conditioners wedged in the few un-boarded-up windows, raps twice on the door, then lets himself in without awaiting an answer.
A young Asian man in an unbuttoned shirt and battered shorts looks up from the lab bench where he is working on some unexplained complication of wires and switches. "This your Russian dude?"
"Yep."
"Righteous!" The young man spins twice in his chair before sending it gliding to our side of the room. "Welcome to the Mad-house. I'm George Tomashi. His TA. Let me show you our lab."
Reaching past us, he taps a rapid series of keystrokes that set different patterns of colored lines dancing on the dozens of monitors positioned at seeming random about the room.
Decker gazes approvingly at the display. "We basically study the rules of nothing."
"'Cause," the younger man adds enthusiastically. "Nothing in this world makes sense."
"Uncertainty?" I question.
"No." Tomashi answers. "Every *thing* is certain in chaos physics."
Decker adds, "Just not in *this* world."
"It's a matter of boundaries." Tomashi hits the keys,and the shifting lines snap into near-parallel formation. "Given enough space, the pattern forms." He hits another, and the lines fall apart at seeming random. "Compress the data so it interacts. Chaos."
I nod. "Or only apparent chaos."
"Exactly." The young man spins his chair again, clearly delighted at my comprehension.
"Not everyone agrees with that, of course." Decker wanders over to the bench and begins poking at the bundle of wires there.
I look closely at equation on the screen. "Oh, I think I have experience with... incomplete patterns. Pick the right data? The whole sequence is clear. Too little ...or too much.... and the information is distorted beyond observation."
"But still there." Another keypunch and order is restored, although the outline is altered.
"Yes." I agree. "The actual pattern would still exist. Only our understanding would have failed."
"So totally true." Tomashi suddenly stands and holds out his hand. "I was told your background was in quantum physics?"
"Yes." I say, surprised at the sudden formality. Still, to respond would seem the proper thing to so. "Although I fear I am many years out of date. I was.... distracted."
"*Government* job, eh?" The words come with a look of cynical commiseration. "We all damn sure know how that goes. And yes, I dig, 'you are not inclined to talk about it at this time'." He drops back into his chair. "Nothing like that around here."
Decker nods his agreement. "Our work here is pure theory."
I consider the lab set up. For all its apparent squalor, the equipment is both modern and extensive. Someone is putting money into this operation. "How do you manage?" I ask carefully.
"Money wise?" Decker shrugs. " It's tight. You'd get a better salary almost anywhere else." He looks at his assistant, who sighs theatrically in agreement. "But our people think the work is worth it."
"Then I do not know if you would find an obsolete Russian worth the investment."
He turns suddenly serious. "Dr. Kuryakin," he replies. "If you are willing to take over Freshman lab - you are priceless."
As I consider my reply, a young lady bursts suddenly from the back room. "Dr. Decker?"
"What?"
She holds out a plastic handset. "Phone call."
Decker takes it and turns aside slightly. Perhaps I should not listen, but...old habits die hard. "Excuse me..Yes? She did? Well then, why didn't they...? OK. OK! I'm coming over. Just tell her to hang tough until I get there."
END CHAPTER FORTY