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the true first discoverer. Eventually, given the choice between a symbol for a
pattern and one for a man, the diplomatic used J-psi and let it go at that.
With delight the Stanford group pointed out that J resembles the Chinese
character for ting, so Ting had covertly named the particle for himself.
"We're ahead of them in the Cosm's development," she said. "No way they
can--wait..."
A few minutes' calculation showed that the Brookhaven recombination era had
taken a week less than their Cosm's. "Theirs is running at a different time
shift," Alicia said.
"Faster. They'll catch up."
"If our Cosm is even around by then. It's losing mass steadily."
Zak frowned. "I wonder if that's related to our getting more light from it."
"Probably."
Zak went to check some details among the diagnostics. The day had slipped away
and she did not look forward to a night poring over their results at home. Her
thoughts drifted back to her time in grad school when she had felt this way,
exhausted by the work yet strung so tight she could not truly rest. That was
probably why she had gotten through with her thesis work more quickly than her
cohorts.
All around her the male graduate students had married and
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settled down, supported in their late nights and drudgery weekends by
sympathetic wives whom they would certainly, the field's traditions taught,
never divorce. Did they make damned sure their prospective wives were suitably
impressed with the importance of particle physics and would not expect too
much of their husbands'
time? Those men unmarried by the postdoc phase could expect a perpetual
probing interest; a successful physicist was a married physicist.
Once she had heard a postdoc remark that he wanted to get married so that he
would not have to bother with a distracting social life.
Zak came back and they finished a few details. "Come on, Zaks-ter,"
she said, hugging him, "I'll buy you a beer."
·/The kidnapping haunted her. She glanced around warily whenever she left a
building. At night she avoided going out at all. Approaching her parked rental
car, she kept her key poised in hand for stabbing if someone should grab her.
Strangers she eyed suspiciously.
lang-up phone calls left her a seethe of anxiety, unable to concentrate for
hours afterward. Once she actually jumped at her own shadow.
Zak noticed and in his own quiet way did what he could. Max's method was more
systematic, making sure to escort her around campus whenever he was down from
Caltech. Jill sat and listened to her endless river of talk, which helped a
lot. She had a few nights of heavy drinking and paid for them with wracking
headaches.
The police "hit a wall," as one of them put it. The kidnappers had been
careful and left few clues. Her work was well known and the suspects many, in
principle.
She thought about getting a gun and rejected it; they spooked her, too. After
a few days of free-floating anxiety, the effect seemed to
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COSM
wear off somewhat, but she was never again to be unconscious of her exposure.
UCI had put an armed security guard outside the observatory.
This helped a lot. Matters calmed down and she got some solid work in. Still,
she gasped in fear when she came in early one morning and found a lanky,
smiling man standing inside the observatory.
"What? Who've you?"
"Just a member of the public. Wanted to look around."
"How did you get in?"
He grinned. "Ever'body gotta sleep."
Images from her kidnapping sprang to mind, tightening her throat. This man did
not seem threatening, but her heart was thumping hard. The awful black moments
in the trunk-- Some of the stored anger from that now came to her aid. She
slammed down her briefcase and gestured at the door. "Well, you can just
get--"
"The secret is your mass here, right?"
"What?"
"No, hey, I understand this, see? You don't have to hand me the line you give
the TV."
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