Timeline

03:10:12

In the windowless control room above the transit pad, Gordon and Stern stared at the monitor screen. It showed an image of five panels, representing the five glass containers that had been etched. As they watched, small white dots appeared on the panels.

"That's the position of the etch points," Gordon said.

Each point was accompanied by a cluster of numbers, but they were too small to read.

"That's the size and depth of each etching," Gordon said.

Stern said nothing. The simulation continued. The panels began to fill with water, represented by a rising horizontal blue line. Superimposed on each panel were two large numbers: the total weight of the water an the pressure per square inch on the glass surface, at the bottom of each panel, where the pressure was greatest.

Even though the simulation was highly stylized, Stern found himself holding his breath. The waterline went higher, and higher.

One tank began to leak: a flashing red spot.

"One leaking," Gordon said.

A second tank began to leak, and as the water continued to rise, a jagged lightning streak crossed the panel, and it vanished from the screen.

"One shattered."

Stern was shaking his head. "How rough do you think this simulation is?"

"Pretty fast and dirty."

On the screen, a second tank shattered. The final two filled to the top without incident.

"So," Gordon said. "The computer's telling us three out of five panels can't be filled."

"If you believe it. Do you?"

"Personally, I don't," Gordon said. "The input data's just not good enough, and the computer is making all kinds of stress assumptions that are pretty hypothetical. But I think we better fill those tanks at the last minute."

Stern said, "It's too bad there isn't a way to strengthen the tanks."

Gordon looked up quickly. "Like what?" he said. "You have an idea?"

"I don't know. Maybe we could fill the etchings with plastic, or some kind of putty. Or maybe we could-"

Gordon was shaking his head. "Whatever you do, it has to be uniform. You'd have to cover the entire surface of the tank evenly. Perfectly evenly."

"I can't see any way to do that," Stern said.

"Not in three hours," Gordon said. "And that's what we have left."

Stern sat down in a chair, frowning. For some reason, he was thinking of racing cars. A succession of images flashed through his mind. Ferraris. Steve McQueen. Formula One. The Michelin Man with his rubber tube body. The yellow Shell sign. Big truck tires, hissing in rain. B. F. Goodrich.

He thought, I don't even like cars. Back in New Haven, he owned an ancient VW Bug. Clearly, his racing mind was trying to avoid an unpleasant reality - something he didn't want to face up to.

The risk.

"So we just fill the panels at the last minute, and pray?" Stern said.

"Exactly," Gordon said. "That's exactly what we do. It's a little hairy. But I think it'll work."

"And the alternative?" Stern said.

Gordon shook his head. "Block their return. Don't let your friends come back. Get brand new glass panels down here, panels that don't have imperfections, and set up again."

"And that takes how long?"

"Two weeks."

"No," Stern said. "We can't do that. We have to go for it."

"That's right," Gordon said. "We do."