The path of least resistance

The infection had probably been contracted on his February flight from the USA to the UK. Martin remembered the whining, runny-nosed boy who had been seated in the central bank of seats immediately to his left, who had agitated all the way from take-off in Boston, Massachusetts until their arrival at Heathrow. The bitter, cold London air and the uncomfortable journey to Cambridge had probably only made matters worse.

Initially the virus had resulted in a heavy cold, then the infection had moved to his ear and eventually, after six weeks unresolved discomfort it resulted in a perforated eardrum. The doctor prescribed penicillin on each of his three visits but it had taken almost four months to heal. Unfortunately, that was not the end of it: Like some decaying geriatric, he had had been left with impaired hearing and the distinct feeling that there was a blockage of some kind in his inner ear. Despite his entreaties, his family doctor had been unsympathetic, and it had taken a lot of pestering before he had eventually been referred to Mister Kumbar, the Ear, Nose and Throat Specialist, at the local hospital.

In retrospect, Martin’s expectations of an instant cure were unrealistic. The man was distinguished, spoke with a pretentious accent, and wore an expensive shirt but, for all that, he was a cog in a well-oiled production line,. He had made a cursory examination, listened to Martin’s explanation of the symptoms he was experiencing but it was insufficient to formulate a prognosis. Accordingly, Mister Kumbar prescribed an MRI, which he thought would help uncover the cause of the problem.

Martin surmised as he left the appointment that medical consultants were like modern day detectives who need CCTV footage and DNA evidence to track the criminal and that the days of connecting clues by a discerning brain, the days of Sherlock Holmes had died long in the past. He comforted himself by concluding that the new scientific methods probably resulted in more precise determinations and that Sherlock would have made use of them had they been available.

Martin lay on the narrow, padded, bed-like protrusion just as he had been instructed by the nurse. He thought that she sounded uncaring but business-like: “Keep looking upwards and keep your head still! Look through the gap in front of view. Ignore the loud noise you will hear. Signal if you are uncomfortable and I will stop!”

The idea that it might be noisy had never occurred to him. When he had seen MRI scans in movies or in other media, they had always been silent. Accordingly, and because of this expectation, his level of apprehension increased slightly in reaction to her warning. The apparatus that she had put over his head was like an advanced design of motorcycle crash helmet and could easily have been something out of Star Trek. There was a small viewing space with mirrors in the front and it was tight on his temples. Lying prostrate, he could only see a vertical kaleidoscope of white lights. 

The nurse made him edge backwards slightly then moved away leaving a few seconds expectant silence. This was interrupted by a warning buzzer before the machine was switched on.

‘Loud’ understated the experience. It was as if he had been dumped next to a relentless, clanking production line that was spitting out anonymous metal products by the second, all underpinned by the drone of a noisy electric motor.

After a few noisy seconds Martin became succumbed by the event. The discordant sound was repetitive, and his mind became attuned to its thrusting polemic. Like an aggressive Marlow symphony, it encouraged his imagination to expand from its normally constrained viewpoint.

If this was Star Trek and he had been captured by pernicious creatures from outer space, then he was being subverted by intrusive an alien brain probe. The thought was not compelling, and it only lasted a few seconds. From that starting point Martin’s mind flitted to alternative realities until he randomly allowed the sound to take him to inside his wife’s noisy vacuum cleaner. It was a compelling thought, and he was instantly enveloped inside her noisy Dyson where the whirring shreds of dust and rubbish whished past him. A small adjustment to his perspective and he joined the jet stream of particles. Inside the storm he found that he could slow down the flow in order to appreciate the spectrum of light glinting on each speck of dust that was oscillating beside him. Another part of his mind wondered whether the stream had slowed down or whether he had speeded up. Either way it seemed stationary but was moving with it, at the same time. The experience was like him dancing among provocatively dressed ravers in a vibrant disco, all illuminated by a complex, colourful, and shifting pattern of multi-coloured lights. In that instant all else was forgotten and he was there, enjoying the experience, the girls, the movement, the smell of bodies and cheap cosmetics and the thump, thump, thumping sound of the music.

He was still inside this mental creation when the MRI noise ended abruptly, and he was dumped back into reality. In short order the helmet came off, he was helped off the table and his coat was put in hand. He was out of the MRI department so quickly that he senses did not have time to catch up. Walking down the corridor towards the car park he felt a kind of dizziness: He was still in a semi-dream state, as if he had just been woken up. It was only when he found himself at the car park exit and realised that he should have paid for an exit ticket before getting into his car that reality took full control. The entire experience had been new to Martin and its impact was a first step in a re-alignment of his thinking.

The eyes of almost fifty students of advanced mathematics stared down at Professor Jason Kavik from the first three or four tiers of the banked lecture theatre. These intellects were assembled at the renowned Massachusetts Institute of Technology, the leading scientific university in the world. It would be reasonable to believe therefore that everyone studying here is already advanced in their knowledge and their thinking. True or not, the audience anticipated with relish the performance that it was about to witness. Young and old, intelligent, and inexperienced, researcher and student were all are on the edge of their hard seat, just as if they are watching a magician who was about to pull a rabbit out of some mystical hat. Each person felt some apprehension that they may be called to give assistance. Yet, at the same time, each person secretly hoped that he or she might be the one to be chosen.

Martin looked down on the theatre from a safe position at the rear. He leaned against the guardrail behind the highest tier of seats and smiled as he remembered his own early student days. He could still recall the enthusiasm, the experimentation and the lack of inhibition that was replicated in front of him.

Yesterday, after his MRI experience, and almost in fun, he had suggested a new project to Professor Kavik. They had been involved in professional ribaldry concerning biological computer chips, or, more particularly, the mathematics Kavik’s team was developing that would facilitate their use in computers of the future. Kavik had boasted that nothing would be more important than this work for the next one hundred years. In response Martin had challenged him and had proposed the idea that was buzzing around in his head; “how about the mathematics that defines the workings of our imagination?”

It was one of the few times he had ever seen Kavik stop in his tracks. There was a double take. First there were a few words of ritual contempt for an idea that wasn’t his. “I don’t think ........!” These were quickly followed by a hesitant and thoughtful silence. “What do you mean?” He asked, his forehead creased in a telling frown.

Half in jest and half seriously Martin had been obliged to justify his suggestion: “The imagination works in a way that transcends all the know laws of the Universe. It provides instant, unlimited transport unconstrained by gravity or the laws of relativity. Movement through time is simple and is expedited without significant use of energy. It is the perfect, working system that permits involved observation of all phenomena. Harnessing its power will fashion the next stage in human evolution.”

Jason Kavik’s eyes had narrowed as he breathed his conclusion: “limitless creativity!”

“A limitless facility to create that can be focussed at will!” Martin’s correction had produced a deepening of the frown then an invitation; “be in my lecture theatre at ten thirty tomorrow!”

 Martin smiled as he realised that he was using his imagination to go back in time and re-live yesterday’s events. This self-indulgence was interrupted when the lights dimmed, and Jason Kavik’s voice took control of the theatre; “What is this?” The question was accompanied by the projection of a picture of a strange red bird with a furry crest, on the screen about Professor Kavik’s head.

A female voice responded from the professor’s right; “a bird!”

“Define the bird!”

A confident male voice with an Australian accent took up the challenge. Its assertiveness reflected the fact that the first person had not received an abusive response: “It’s a Red Cock of the Rock, sometimes called a Peruvian Cock of the Rock!”

Kavik’s continued: “Okay! Picture this bird’s habitat in the land of its origin! Write down what you can see! What are the shapes? What are the colours? What is in the sky?”

He waited a few moments before giving the group his next instruction; “write a simple description of where you are standing!”

Then; “move your feet! What does it sound like?”

And then; “what other sounds do you hear?”

Another silence and then the probing started: “Who can tell me, did you define this place before you travelled there, or did you travel there and then define it?”

The question was followed by silence as each person tried to recreate the journey and find the answer. Eventually voices from the gloom suggested different possibilities but there was no consensus. The amphitheatre lights turned up to make Master and his scholars visible to each other.

“Can you decide to go someplace if you don’t know the place you are going?” Kavik’s voice was urgent now.

An Indian accent answered from somewhere near the front; “Yes you can! You only need to know that a place exists and that there is a credible route. You will create pictures in advance and will have them confirmed or otherwise when you arrive. We manufacture an endpoint in order to construct the path.”

Professor Kavik nodded in appreciation and continued; “from our human perspective the route is ultra-optimistic. It is constructed without difficulty or resistance and as there is no mass it seems to defy the laws of gravity and relativity. It is the ultimate path of least resistance. What if I had told you that the Cock of the Rock originated on a planet many light years from here? The planet of origin is in a dual sun system in the constellation of Hercules and by our standards it is inhabitable and houses very exotic vegetation and fauna. Now what can you see? How different is it than its temporary home in Peru?”

Martin watched with admiration as Kavik took the class on the journey. He guessed what question the Professor would ask next and smiled with self-congratulation when it came, and he had got it right: “How long did it take you to get there?”

There was no reply. The entire group knew that the question was meant to be rhetorical. Their silence produced a half smile from Professor Kavik who now elaborated on his attempt to stimulate their minds. “I wish to put together a research group that will work with Doctor Martin Jessup on a long-term project. Its intention will be to discover and formulate the mathematics that defines imagination. Depending on our postulations regarding reality and on our perceptions of reality, this could well form the basis for the next stage in human development. In years to come, this work will be core to interstellar travel, time travel and all manner of human insight. It will literally bring everything imaginable into our grasp. I have already spoken with Microsoft, Apple, NASA and IBM and long-term funding will be made available. Those who are interested to make a lasting commitment and wish to be involved in this project, please see Doctor Jessup as you leave.” Professor Kavik waved his hand upwards in the direction of Martin, like a religious leader might have signalling his blessing to a to one of his faithful. Students, researchers, and academics stood, and spontaneous applause rang out from the benches in acclaim of this enlightened man who had already set the destination for them and because of that, had opened the path between unquantifiable mysticism and science. They were still inside a closed room, but a light had been turned on to illuminate their way.