Class Project

“Do as well as Ein­stein?” Jeffreys­sai said, in­cre­d­u­lously. “Just as well as Ein­stein? Albert Ein­stein was a great sci­en­tist of his era, but that was his era, not this one! Ein­stein did not com­pre­hend the Bayesian meth­ods; he lived be­fore the cog­ni­tive bi­ases were dis­cov­ered; he had no sci­en­tific grasp of his own thought pro­cesses. Ein­stein spoke non­sense of an im­per­sonal God—which tells you how well he un­der­stood the rhythm of rea­son, to dis­card it out­side his own field! He was too caught up in the drama of re­ject­ing his era’s quan­tum me­chan­ics to ac­tu­ally fix it. And while I grant that Ein­stein rea­soned cleanly in the mat­ter of Gen­eral Rel­a­tivity—bar­ring that mat­ter of the cos­molog­i­cal con­stant—he took ten years to do it. Too slow!”

Too slow?” re­peated Taji in­cre­d­u­lously.

“Too slow! If Ein­stein were in this class­room now, rather than Earth of the nega­tive first cen­tury, I would rap his knuck­les! You will not try to do as well as Ein­stein! You will as­pire to do BETTER than Ein­stein or you may as well not bother!

Jeffreys­sai shook his head. “Well, I’ve given you enough hints. It is time to test your skills. Now, I know that the other beisut­sukai don’t think much of my class pro­jects...” Jeffreys­sai paused sig­nifi­cantly.

Bren­nan in­wardly sighed. He’d heard this line many times be­fore, in the Bardic Con­spir­acy, the Com­pet­i­tive Con­spir­acy: The other teach­ers think my as­sign­ments are too easy, you should be grate­ful, fol­lowed by some ridicu­lously difficult task—

“They say,” Jeffreys­sai said, “that my pro­jects are too hard; in­sanely hard; that they pass from the realm of mad­ness into the realm of Sparta; that Laplace him­self would catch on fire; they ac­cuse me of try­ing to tear apart my stu­dents’ souls—”

Oh, crap.

“But there is a rea­son,” Jeffreys­sai said, “why many of my stu­dents have achieved great things; and by that I do not mean high rank in the Bayesian Con­spir­acy. I ex­pected much of them, and they came to ex­pect much of them­selves. So...”

Jeffreys­sai took a mo­ment to look over his in­creas­ingly dis­turbed stu­dents, “Here is your as­sign­ment. Of quan­tum me­chan­ics, and Gen­eral Rel­a­tivity, you have been told. This is the limit of Eld sci­ence, and hence, the limit of pub­lic knowl­edge. The five of you, work­ing on your own, are to pro­duce the cor­rect the­ory of quan­tum grav­ity. Your time limit is one month.”

What?” said Bren­nan, Taji, Styr­lyn, and Yin. Hiriwa gave them a puz­zled look.

“Should you suc­ceed,” Jeffreys­sai con­tinued, “you will be pro­moted to beisut­sukai of the sec­ond dan and sixth level. We will see if you have learned speed. Your clock starts—now.”

And Jeffreys­sai strode out of the room, slam­ming the door be­hind him.

“This is crazy!” Taji cried.

Hiriwa looked at Taji, be­mused. “The solu­tion is not known to us. How can you know it is so difficult?”

“Be­cause we knew about this prob­lem back in the Eld days! Eld sci­en­tists worked on this prob­lem for a lot longer than one month.”

Hiriwa shrugged. “They were still ar­gu­ing about many-wor­lds too, weren’t they?”

Enough! There’s no time!

The other four stu­dents looked to Styr­lyn, re­mem­ber­ing that he was said to rank high in the Co­op­er­a­tive Con­spir­acy. There was a brief mo­ment of weigh­ing, of as­sess­ing, and then Styr­lyn was their leader.

Styr­lyn took a great breath. “We need a list of ap­proaches. Write down all the an­gles you can think of. In­de­pen­dently—we need your in­di­vi­d­ual com­po­nents be­fore we start com­bin­ing. In five min­utes, I’ll ask each of you for your best idea first. No wasted thoughts! Go!

Bren­nan grabbed a sheet and his tracer, set the tip to the sur­face, and then paused. He couldn’t think of any­thing clever to say about unify­ing gen­eral rel­a­tivity and quan­tum me­chan­ics...

The other stu­dents were already writ­ing.

Bren­nan tapped the tip, once, twice, thrice. Gen­eral rel­a­tivity and quan­tum me­chan­ics...

Taji put his first sheet aside, grabbed an­other.

Fi­nally, Bren­nan, for lack of any­thing clever to say, wrote down the ob­vi­ous.

Minutes later, when Styr­lyn called time, it was still all he had writ­ten.

“All right,” Styr­lyn said, “your best idea. Or the idea you most want the rest of us to take into ac­count in our sec­ond com­po­nents. Taji, go!”

Taji looked over his sheets. “Okay, I think we’ve got to as­sume that ev­ery av­enue that Eld sci­ence was try­ing is a blind alley, or they would have found it. And if this is pos­si­ble to do in one month, the an­swer must be, in some sense, el­e­gant. So no mul­ti­ple di­men­sions. If we start do­ing any­thing that looks like we should call it ‘string the­ory’, we’d bet­ter stop. Maybe be­gin by con­sid­er­ing how failure to un­der­stand de­co­her­ence could have led Eld sci­ence astray in quan­tiz­ing grav­ity.”

“The op­po­site of folly is folly,” Hiriwa said. “Let us pre­tend that Eld sci­ence never ex­isted.”

“No crit­i­cisms yet!” said Styr­lyn. “Hiriwa, your sug­ges­tion?”

“Get rid of the in­fini­ties,” said Hiriwa, “ex­tir­pate that which per­mits them. It should not be a mat­ter of clev­er­ness with in­te­grals. A rep­re­sen­ta­tion that al­lows in­finity must be false-to-fact.”

“Yin.”

“We know from com­mon sense,” Yin said, “that if we stepped out­side the uni­verse, we would see time laid out all at once, re­al­ity like a crys­tal. But I once en­coun­tered a hint that physics is time­less in a deeper sense than that.” Yin’s eyes were dis­tant, re­mem­ber­ing. “Years ago, I found an aban­doned city; it had been un­in­hab­ited for eras, I think. And be­hind a door whose locks were bro­ken, carved into one wall: quote .ua sai .ei mi vimcu ty bu le mekso un­quote.”

Bren­nan trans­lated: Eureka! Elimi­nate t from the equa­tions. And writ­ten in Lo­jban, the sa­cred lan­guage of sci­ence, which meant the un­known writer had thought it to be true.

“The ‘time­less physics’ of which we’ve all heard ru­mors,” Yin said, “may be time­less in a very literal sense.”

“My own con­tri­bu­tion,” Styr­lyn said. “The quan­tum physics we’ve learned is over joint po­si­tional con­figu­ra­tions. It seems like we should be able to take that apart into a spa­tially lo­cal rep­re­sen­ta­tion, in terms of in­var­i­ant dis­tant en­tan­gle­ments. Find­ing that rep­re­sen­ta­tion might help us in­te­grate with gen­eral rel­a­tivity, whose cur­va­ture is lo­cal.”

“A strangely in­di­vi­d­u­al­ist per­spec­tive,” Taji mur­mured, “for one of the Co­op­er­a­tive Con­spir­acy.”

Styr­lyn shook his head. “You mi­s­un­der­stand us, then. The first les­son we learn is that groups are made of peo­ple… no, there is no time for poli­tics. Bren­nan!”

Bren­nan shrugged. “Not much, I’m afraid, only the ob­vi­ous. In­er­tial mass-en­ergy was always ob­served to equal grav­i­ta­tional mass-en­ergy, and Ein­stein showed that they were nec­es­sar­ily the same. So why is the ‘en­ergy’ that is an eigen­value of the quan­tum Hamil­to­nian, nec­es­sar­ily the same as the ‘en­ergy’ quan­tity that ap­pears in the equa­tions of Gen­eral Rel­a­tivity? Why should space­time curve at the same rate that the lit­tle ar­rows ro­tate?”

There was a brief pause.

Yin frowned. “That seems too ob­vi­ous. Wouldn’t Eld sci­ence have figured it out already?”

“For­get Eld sci­ence ex­isted,” Hiriwa said. “The ques­tion stands: we need the an­swer, whether it was known in an­cient times or not. It can­not pos­si­bly be co­in­ci­dence.

Taji’s eyes were ab­stracted. “Per­haps it would be pos­si­ble to show that an ex­cep­tion to the equal­ity would vi­o­late some con­ser­va­tion law...”

“That is not where Bren­nan pointed,” Hiriwa in­ter­rupted. “He did not ask for a proof that they must be set equal, given some ap­peal­ing prin­ci­ple; he asked for a view in which the two are one and can­not be di­vided even con­cep­tu­ally, as was ac­com­plished for in­er­tial mass-en­ergy and grav­i­ta­tional mass-en­ergy. For we must as­sume that the beauty of the whole arises from the fun­da­men­tal laws, and not the other way around. Fair-rephras­ing?”

“Fair-rephras­ing,” Bren­nan replied.

Silence reigned for thirty-seven sec­onds, as the five pon­dered the five sug­ges­tions.

“I have an idea...”