The Grantville Gazette - Volume 7 Part 29

Bart walked into the kitchen and shook his head. "Nope. Colette Mora got sick at the cafe and Sebastian begged her to come in and help. Business is picking up for them."

Amy opened the oven door again and smiled at what she saw. "Chicken is ready. Better call the boys, Colette."

After dinner, conversation turned to the major topics of the month . . . Breitenfeld and business.

"I really don't see how our arrival could have changed the outcome at Breitenfeld," Josh pointed out.

"Gustavus Adolphus will win and Tilly will be driven from the field. But the farther away in time we move from the Ring of Fire the more likely things will change, especially as we begin interacting with people outside Thuringia."

Colette nodded thoughtfully. "So my letters to Annette, my uncle, and Marie de Gournay will change history?"

"How could they not?" Amy asked. "In our history you were probably killed, from what you told me.

Things are going to be way different now that we're here. And that probably means that a lot of the people who were born in our history, even the famous people, won't even exist in this universe. No Newton, no Einstein . . . n.o.body we're familiar with who was born after the 1630's."

Colette sat up in dismay. "But that means no Euler!"

Bart laughed at the expression on Colette's face. "Right, no Euler. Who's Euler?"

Colette glanced around the table. Every single person had a blank look on their face. She sighed. Jerry Calafano had loaned her numerous books on mathematics including biographies, textbooks and problem books. She had spent hours each day reading, problem solving and pondering the mathematics of the future. Of all the mathematicians she had read about, she most identified with Euler. Not because she thought she had the same genius, but because Euler had seemed to love all of mathematics as she did, for the mere ability to challenge the mind.

"Euler," Colette said, "was the most famous mathematician since Archimedes. He averaged more than eight hundred pages of ma.n.u.script a year. Even when he lost his eyesight in 1771 he still kept publis.h.i.+ng, dictating his thoughts to a secretary." Colette shook her head sadly. "No Euler. I will miss him."

Josh laughed. "Colette! He hasn't even been born yet!"

"True, but still . . ." Colette got a thoughtful look on her face.

Oh oh, thought Josh, I'm beginning to understand that look. "Colette, what are you scheming?"

Colette's face turned innocent. "Scheming? Nothing. Just thinking that I must do something to make sure people do not forget Euler in this universe." She patted Josh's hand. "Do not worry my husband, it will not affect us."

Colette was seldom wrong in her judgment. But Josh would remember the conversation later in life and point to it as a clear sign that there were times when she was not infallible.

The remainder of the dinner conversation centered around their various businesses.

"Well, I've got an idea for a name for the crucible steel business," Josh said. "I found a reference to a Pittsburgh firm that was one of the biggies. What do you think of Black Diamond Steel Corporation?"

Colette frowned. "I like diamond, and steel makes sense, but black is not good. People will think of death."

"What about blue?" Amy asked. "My favorite color."

Colette shook her head. "Too French. You will turn off the Germans."

Bart grinned. "How about yellow? I like yellow."

Colette shook her head again. "Too Swedish. All the Catholics will refuse to buy from you."

Amy laughed. "G.o.d, Colette. Is there any safe color?"

Colette thought for a moment. "White. White is a good color. Pure. Bright. The color of leaders.h.i.+p."

Josh smiled. "White Diamond Steel Corporation it is, then."

"What about this inn you're planning on Clarksburg? Got a name for that yet?" Amy asked.

In their pre-nuptial agreement Colette and Josh had agreed to establish an inn using the two houses on Clarksburg. Money from Colette's inheritance would be used to renovate and maintain the properties and profits would go into a joint account.

For several minutes names were bandied about, but no one seemed satisfied. Colette had a thought.

"We were planning to have chess club meetings at the inn when it opens, correct?"

Many members of the parish chess club were too busy with work to have time to play chess. So, Colette and Josh had started the Grantville Chess Club back in July.

"Yeah," Josh said. "We should have enough s.p.a.ce since we're building the addition with two stories like you suggested. Why?"

"echecs de la dame enragee," murmured Colette.

Josh laughed. "Perfect!"

Amy looked puzzled. "Chess of the madwoman?"

Colette shook her head. "No, no, it translates better as 'Chess of the Maddened Queen.' It was the name for the modern chess that we play. It was introduced in 1580 in Italy, some say, and everyone in Europe loved it, except for the Russians. So we will call our establishment . . .""Inn of the Maddened Queen!" blurted Amy. "I like it! And we all know who the Queen of the inn is going to be, don't we?" She grinned.

Josh smiled. "Are you sure we shouldn't call it Inn of the Maddening Queen instead?"

Colette hit him.

That night Colette dreamed. In her dream the souls of dead mathematicians and dead scientists flashed by her, vanis.h.i.+ng into a stygian abyss. There were thousands, but a few she recognized because their names appeared in bright red above their heads.

Newton. Leibniz. Bernoulli. Bohr. Einstein. Euler. With nothing but her will she tried to keep them from vanis.h.i.+ng, but it was useless. In her dream she cried tears that turned to diamonds that flowed into the abyss. Suddenly a light appeared in the abyss. As it drew closer she saw that it was the figure of a man dressed in brilliant white holding a steel crucible. In the crucible were her diamond tears.

"Can you save their souls?" Colette asked.

The man in white smiled. "No, but you can. No soul is ever lost to me so long as their name echoes through the corridors of time. That will be your mission, my daughter. Let their names echo through the corridors of time. Do you accept this mission?"

Colette nodded. "I do."

The man in white placed his hand on her head. "When you are ready, I will send you a messenger.

Your name for this mission shall be . . . Crucibellus."

When Colette woke the next morning she remembered the dream. Crucibellus, she thought. It could mean so many different things. Perfect crucifixion. Tormented warrior. Torture of war. Crucible. Still, it was euphonious. She decided she liked it.

It was late November. Colette was in her office on the second floor above the common room of the Inn of the Maddened Queen when someone knocked on her door. She was going over the accounts of the inn and was happy to see that the inn was already making a profit. Not a large profit, it was true, but still a profit.

"Yes? Who is it?"

"John Dury," said a voice. "May I come in?"

"Sure, come in." When Dury entered Colette motioned to a chair next to her desk. "How can I help you, John?"

John Dury was an idealist. He had attended the Leipzig Colloquy in the hope of uniting all Protestants in a common front behind Gustavus Adolphus, but his hopes had been dashed. In July he had begun to travel around Germany trying once again to convince Protestant princes that the unity of all Protestants was the only means through which the Habsburgs could be defeated. In early November he had heard about a strange colony of Englishmen in Thuringia who had supposedly arrived from the future and decided to investigate.

When he stopped a stranger on the streets of Grantville and asked him where he might find lodging, the stranger looked him up and down and asked, "You interested in a good time or some peace and quiet?"

Dury had smiled. "Peace and quiet sounds nice."

"Then try the Inn of the Maddened Queen. It's on Clarksburg Street."

Dury had been very pleased with the accommodations at the inn. The rooms were s.p.a.cious and the linens were clean and fresh. There was a fireplace, as well as a number of cozy chairs and couches in the common room. Several chess games were ongoing at all hours of the day and there were always guests around to engage in pleasant conversation. Bread, cheese, and wine were provided for guests in theevening.

It was there that he met Colette Modi, co-owner and manager of the inn. They struck up a conversation over a game of chess and he listened in fascination as she told her story of how she came to be in Grantville. Later that day he met her husband and it was clear that the love they felt for each other was deep and lasting. Over the next two days Colette and Josh Modi explained much about Grantville.

He had been most impressed by Grantville High School since he had long been an advocate for education reform.

The day he was to depart he felt moved to return the kindness that had been extended to him.

"Perhaps I can help you, Colette. Do you remember yesterday when you told me that you had prepared a ma.n.u.script on the mathematics of the future?"

Colette nodded, her eyes suddenly bright.

"Well, one of my friends is Samuel Hartlib. I think he would be interested in publis.h.i.+ng such a ma.n.u.script. Samuel is endeavoring to be what is called an Intelligencer, someone who communicates new science and new ideas to others around Europe."

"That would be fine," Colette said. "I want anyone to be free to copy my ma.n.u.script. And this would be the first of eleven. Do you think he would still be interested?"

"I think so," Dury said, "although that might limit the number of copies that he decides to make. Don't you want any money for this?"

Colette shook her head. "No, my purpose is to disseminate the knowledge as widely as possible, not to restrict it. And I am just the synthesizer. Most of this knowledge is easy to come by here in Grantville, if you know where to look."

Dury smiled. "Well then, since I am headed to England tomorrow, perhaps I can place some copies in the right hands. How many do you have?"

"Three plus the original." Colette reached into her desk and pulled out three large envelopes and handed them to Dury. "One is for Samuel Hartlib, one is to be mailed to Nicolas Peiresc, and the third to Marin Mersenne." Colette smiled. "I believe you know those gentlemen?"

Dury gave a start of surprise. "How did you . . ."

Colette grinned. "I was told that a messenger would come, John." She looked up at the ceiling and then back at Dury.

Dury understood immediately. "Mysterious are the ways of G.o.d, Colette. Mysterious, indeed."

Before he left, Colette Modi made him promise one thing. "Initially I want no one to know that I wrote these, John. So please promise me that only the name Crucibellus will be connected with these ma.n.u.scripts. The address I have left in the ma.n.u.script is Inn of The Maddened Queen. That way many will a.s.sume it is simply a postal drop."

Dury smiled. "I promise."

Two months later John Dury was in London. It was there that he mailed a copy of Colette's ma.n.u.script to Marin Mersenne in Paris and Nicolas Peiresc in Aix-en-Provence. The third he took to Samuel Hartlib.

To say that the Crucibellus Ma.n.u.scripts took the European mathematical community by storm would be a vast understatement. In early 1632 many Europeans were still unaware that something unusual had happened to their universe. Even those who had heard the tales of a community of Englishmen in Thuringia tended to discredit the idea unless they had actually traveled to Grantville themselves. But when the Crucibellus Ma.n.u.scripts began circulating in 1632, people's minds began to change. It was not that all of the concepts were totally new and different. But it was the style and the breadth and the mystery which set intellectual circles abuzz. For Crucibellus had outlined the topics of future ma.n.u.scripts and promisedthat each would appear at approximately three month intervals. Mathematical Symbology of the Future.

a.n.a.lytical Geometry. Differential Calculus. Integral Calculus. Differential Equations. Matrix Algebra.

Probability. Statistics. Fractals. Special and General Relativity. Quantum Mechanics.

The style was often brutally terse. While only the most essential concepts were given, the example problems in the ma.n.u.scripts were explained in clear and exquisite detail and were often taken from problems the reader could imagine from everyday life.

And then there were the challenge problems. Theorems unheard of. Problems never dreamt of.

Problems no mathematician in the seventeenth century could solve, especially in the ninety days before the answer would appear in the next ma.n.u.script. The first challenge problem set the stage for the rest: Prove the existence of the Euler Line. That is, that the orthocenter, centroid, and circ.u.mcenter of any triangle must lie in a straight line, with the centroid exactly twice as far from the orthocenter as from the circ.u.mcenter.

Soon, of course, a number of mathematicians had discovered the real name of the author and were studying in Grantville themselves.

But without the Crucibellus Ma.n.u.scripts it might have taken years to stir their curiosity.

Ask a mathematician three hundred years later who Mike Stearns was and many would give you a blank look. But ask them about the Crucibellus Ma.n.u.scripts and watch their eyes light up with recognition or listen to them discourse for hours on their impact.

The Crucibellus Ma.n.u.scripts.

Long will they echo across the corridors of time.

NON-FICTION.

The Mechanical Reproduction Of Sound: Developing A Recorded Music Distribution

Industry

By Chris Penycate and Rick Boatright

Part 1. Preparing pre-recorded material for distribution Sound, no matter how complex, is just waves like the ripples in a pond. It can be considered as the displacement of molecules from their place of rest. A more technical definition would be: Sound is a series of compression and rarefaction waves in a substance, solid, liquid or generally in our experience, gas. Our aim in recording is to precisely reproduce these waves in another place and/or at a differenttime. As exact, absolutely precise reproduction can't be done even today, we must be satisfied with successive approximations and keep aiming to improve. A cheap, bad telephone will make something that sounds "sort of" like you. A mechanical phonograph will sound "better" but still not exactly the same as you. We can successively improve our approximations until, with modern speakers, decent amps and CD quality recording it would be very difficult to tell which was "real" you or the recording. But you might still be able to tell that there was a difference.

First exercise for students-take an inflated balloon, hold it in front of your face, and sing at it. You can feel the vibrations through your fingertips (and in good lighting, by singing loudly, watch them travel over the surface). As the sound hit's the balloon it wiggles, which is about how the ear drum works. If we were able to attach a needle to our balloon with glue or tape, we could have made it inscribe a wiggly line on a soot-covered piece of paper, which shows that we can make a record of the sound. This would demonstrate that enough energy is being transferred to do mechanical work.