An Exercise in Causality: And Other Stories

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© 2014 . George Anthony All rights reserved.

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Published by AuthorHouse 05/29/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4969-8080-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-8081-6 (e)

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Contents

Preface

An Exercise in Causality

Fear No More

Six particles in search of an observer

Carry Me Home

Letter from school

How we Conquered Mars

To Where You Came From

Probability Curve

Birth

Visiting the Millionaire

Falls the Shadow

The Fast

In a name

A Ghost Story

Style of the Time

Eradicating stegobium paniceum from pulse-based animal feeds

If there were no if there were no Benny Cemoli

Faster than light

There was an old lady…

Half a League

Renewal

A Matter of Time

The Ants

Murder in Space

Preface

These stories and sketches were written over a period of many years, so the reader will find considerable variations in style. Some - for example Fear No More, Falls the Shadow and A Matter of Time - are adventure stories of the classical SF kind. A few follow the more experimental forms of New Wave and after. One or two were entries in literary competitions: in the case of The Fast, for example, a number of specified words (case, fast, light, note, refuse, row and wound) had to be incorporated. There is a Ghost Story. And at the end there is a Murder Mystery, which can, if the reader wishes, be adapted for a lunch or dinner party.

It is possible that not all styles will appeal to all readers. The less straightforward pieces therefore alternate, as far as possible, with the narratives. A reader put off by one need only skip to the next.

Visiting the Millionaire, Fear No More, The Fast and Falls the Shadow are reprinted here by kind permission of Short Stories at East of the Web (http://www.short-stories.co.uk/).

In conclusion, my deepest thanks are due to the members of my family who have read through the early versions of the texts and given valuable comments and advice.

An Exercise in Causality

The causal relationship between any two events - shall we call them event A and event B? - can broadly be of four kinds. A can cause B. Or B can cause A. Or both A and B can each be caused by some third event, C. Or there can be no causal relationship between them at all (the null relationship).

For example, Brian’s car may suddenly explode (event B). This is because Arthur has put a lighted match into the car’s petrol tank (event A). A has caused B.

There may then be a loud bang (event A2), obviously the result of Brian’s car exploding (event B). B has caused A2.

Then, again - and assuming it is dark - there may be a flash of light (event B2) at the same time as (well, just before, if one is being pedantic) the loud bang (event A2). A2 doesn’t cause B2, and B2 doesn’t cause A2, although both occur (almost) together. But both are the result of event B (which is, of course, the C in the explanation in paragraph one).

OK so far? Now, though, let us suppose that Catherine comes out of the front door - no, make that Dorothy; it would be best, for the sake of clarity, to forget all about any C - carrying a tray of glasses. Event B, the exploding car, takes place. There is a loud bang (event A2), and Dorothy drops the tray (event D). Is D the result of A2? Perhaps. But it might also be because, in the flash of light (event B2), Dorothy sees Brian, hitherto hidden in the dark behind some bushes, kissing Eveline (event E). In that case E causes D. The first alternative produces a causal chain: A leading to B, leading to A2 leading to D. The second produces another one: A leading to B, leading to B2 leading - though indirectly via E, it must be admitted - to D.

But wait a moment! You may be wondering what caused event A in the first place. Could it be that Arthur, who happens to be married to Eveline, knew all about event E (despite it being dark) and therefore decided to carry out A? The second explanation for event D then makes more sense, since Brian is Dorothy’s husband. The whole chain of events (actually two chains of events) is caused by E, which leads to A which leads to B which leads to A2 and B2, one of which leads to D - no, wait a minute, if D isn’t caused by A2, it’s caused by a combination of both B2 and E. So we have three causal chains, with two of them alternatives for each other: E, A, A2, D; and E, A, B, B2+E, D.

This, though, creates a bit of a problem. Can E really cause D twice? If Brian kissing Eveline (event E) had never taken place, Dorothy wouldn’t have seen anything, and wouldn’t have dropped the tray - unless, of course, that happened because of the loud bang (A2). But then, if E hadn’t happened in the first place, Arthur wouldn’t have had any reason to put a lighted match into Brian’s car’s petrol tank (A), there would have been no flash of light (B2) for Dorothy to see by… and no loud bang (A2) either, come to think of it. Dorothy would have walked across the drive carrying the tray and offered Arthur a glass of wine, and probably offered one each to Eveline and Brian as well, when they came out of the bushes (if they were there, of course; though if they had been there Dorothy would have dropped the tray and wouldn’t be able to offer them glasses of wine…).

So let’s try making things simpler. Suppose Arthur has no idea that Brian is kissing Eveline in the bushes (E). He puts the lighted match into the petrol tank of Brian’s car (A) purely on a whim. There is no causal relationship between A and E at all. Dorothy still drops the tray (D) as a result of either the loud bang (A2) or the combination of the flash of light (B2) and seeing Brian kissing Eveline (E). Much more satisfactory. E then only appears once as a cause of D.

No, on second thoughts, it isn’t really satisfactory at all. It makes one wonder what on earth could have led Arthur to blow up Brian’s car (event B); and also, perhaps, why Brian is kissing Eveline. Could it be that Eveline has just discovered that her husband, Arthur, has had a mental breakdown, has become a pyromaniac, and so she is seeking consolation from Brian? In that case, the one who has more cause to carry out event B is Dorothy - though if that event hadn’t taken place first, she wouldn’t have known about event E, so wouldn’t in fact have had any cause to carry out B. Except she would have had cause, but wouldn’t have known it.

Can you have a causal relationship in the case of events that don’t happen? Rather than making things simpler, this new approach seems to have made them more complicated.

Maybe, though, Brian is completely blameless, and Dorothy has no reason to blow up his car. Maybe Eveline has been overwhelmed by a sudden, irrational passion for Brian, and has inveigled him into the bushes on a pretext. As it was all along, the one with a reason to blow up the car is Arthur… but not, come to think of it, Brian’s car, unless, in a fit of rage, he is being irrational and unfair. Logically, it should be Eveline’s car. Isn’t it most unlikely, though, that Arthur and Eveline - who are, after all, married - came in separate cars? In that case perhaps all Arthur can do is blow up his own car. Ridiculous!

. . .not so ridiculous, though, if the car they came in actually wasn’t his, but Eveline’s. Or, despite being married, they had had a row and come in different cars. Perhaps they were about to separate, so Eveline’s kissing of Brian wasn’t that surprising. What if Brian and Dorothy were about to separate as well? Nobody would really have any reason to blow up anyone else’s car. Couldn’t Dorothy and Arthur then get together? They could all live happily ever after.

In that case, though, the nice web of causal links is pretty well destroyed. Event B (Brian’s car exploding), which is an event C as defined in the first paragraph - oh, I’m sorry we should have forgotten all about C - becomes a completely random event, perhaps the result of a leak somewhere.

OK. Let’s say it doesn’t happen. There is no loud bang (event A2) and no flash of light (event B2); but Dorothy still drops the tray of glasses (event D). This, too, is a purely random event - perhaps she trips on the step. Brian kisses Eveline behind the bushes; but Arthur knows nothing about it, and Dorothy doesn’t see it. Everything that happens is a series of random events, without causes and without consequences.

If the universe really is like that, it’s rough on some people. Dorothy, for example. Not only is her husband carrying on with Eveline behind her back, but she also trips on a step and drops a tray of glasses. Arthur’s only a little luckier. His wife is also carrying on behind his back; and, besides, Dorothy has dropped the tray so he doesn’t get a glass of wine. Nor do Eveline and Brian, of course. But they get away with their little flirtation.

One thing does come out of it quite well, though. Brian’s car.

Fear No More

"Fear no more the heat o’ the sun . . ."

(William Shakespeare, Cymbeline, IV, ii)

Jonte faced playtime with mixed feelings. When the bell rang, the others would rush into the open air, laughing and chattering. He felt left out. Yet these were also times he enjoyed. He could daydream about how things might have been.

Sometimes, though, he would watch the play - not directly, that would have been impossible - but on the big screen in one of the classrooms. Cheering on his friends made him feel part of the action. Even through the screens, however, watching for long often made his eyes hurt. Sunlight reflected strongly off the silvery turf, and even more from the trees around the ground. Players in motion trailed flashes of light which left black spots in his vision.

It was during a tense game that the summons came through. The shelter Principal, no less, wanted him at once in his office. Jonte uttered a mild swearword, though realising that he had already been watching too long - his head was aching. He made his way to the admin sector; signalled his arrival; and went in.

The Principal was behind his desk directly opposite the door. He was a small man, with metallic black hair cut short, silver-grey hands in constant fidgety motion, and an expression of perpetual irritation. He waved in the direction of a chair placed in front of the desk.

But to Jonte’s surprise, there were several other people in the office. It was difficult at first to see them all clearly: not only had the effects of watching the match still to wear off, but the lighting was poor. Perhaps the Principal had only remembered at the last minute to close the heavy shutters and switch on a lamp.

As his vision returned, Jonte’s surprise grew. The six men and two women, who sat in a half circle to one side, judging by their job tags, were senior… very senior. Four were from the administration. The two women and the other two men seemed to be scientists from different research bodies.

Jonte was used to the fact that other people were inscrutable. He would have been able tell from gazing in a mirror into his own eyes, with their blue irises surrounding dark pupils, how he was feeling, even if he hadn’t known already. But other people’s eyes were silver discs, giving away nothing. He could sometimes see from the rest of their faces whether they were happy or sad, smiling or frowning; but their skin reflected the light, so that he could never be quite sure. From the way they were sitting, he thought, the visitors seemed anxious.

Jonte, the Principal said, these people have a favour to ask, and I hope you can help them. Please sit down.

Jonte’s surprise grew. What possible favour could these people want from someone like him?

I’ll help if I can, he said.

You know, the Principal went on, that you have had to grow up here because going outside would be dangerous. Your body wouldn’t be able to withstand the radiation, even at night-time. Ordinary people are born with protection; but in your case…

So you see, one of the women interjected quickly, you are really a very interesting young man. We want you to let us get to know you better.

The people here, the Principal resumed, are from the government’s science and research council. They would like to take you to one of their centres in the south, where the facilities are supposed to be better than we can provide…

But I’m quite happy here, Jonte felt he should say. My friends…

. . . and in any case, the Principal insisted a trifle sourly, you wouldn’t be able to stay much longer. The shelter is being closed down.

Jonte took this in. So when do I have to go? he asked.

If you can pack your things together quickly, one of the men replied, we should like to move you this evening… say in an hour. Is that all right?

An hour! The suddenness of it all puzzled Jonte. His condition had been known from the moment he had been born when his parents - so he had been told - had handed him over for special care. But it also excited him. Apart from a short journey when he had been much younger to a medical centre, he could not remember ever having left the shelter. He didn’t really have much to pack anyway.

OK! he said.

*

The transporter that was to take him south was a large one, larger than anything he had been in before. Even so, there was only one other person in the closed seating section besides himself: the woman who had said she wanted to get to know him better. Looking at her in the dim lighting that came from a single small unit on the roof, he thought she must be quite old. Her slightly puffy silver-grey face was framed by precise waves of bronze hair. The tag on her suit said she was chief psychologist at the Regional Institute for Human Research.

Are you all right? she asked. Not too upset at having to leave suddenly like this?

Jonte shrugged. I’m fine, he said. Where are you taking me?

Behind her blank eyes, the psychologist seemed to be thinking. Eventually she said: I’m going to be open with you, Jonte. Something has come up which makes it very important for us to… to examine you, give you some tests, things like that. But don’t worry. It’ll all be quite painless. Even fun, perhaps, she added, smiling. By the way, my name’s Eden.

But the medics from the centre come and test me all the time! Jonte exclaimed, not responding to the offered name. There can’t be anything they don’t know by now. Why don’t you get what you want from them? But at the same time the thought came to him that this suggestion was stupid: that wasn’t at all what they really wanted. He should have known straightaway from the being open bit at the start.

Oh, the tests we want to run are quite different from anything done here, Eden replied. Besides, our facilities are much better than theirs. And I’m afraid the level of expertise in those places is extremely low compared to what it used to be. Only in centres like the Institute…

She stopped abruptly, as both she and Jonte were jerked from their seats. The transporter seemed to swing crazily from side to side before making a sharp ninety degree turn, and then slowly overbalancing onto one side. Eden rolled into one corner. Jonte pulled himself up by one of the seats and made sure they were still sealed from the outside. Fortunately the small centre light was still working.

From the front there came sounds of shouting; then three or four muffled thumps; then nothing. Eden tried unsuccessfully to get up, so that Jonte felt he was now the one in charge.

You OK? he asked. I suppose we’ve been in a crash or something, but it can’t be too bad. I expect they’ll get this thing going again quite soon.

On cue, with faint scraping sounds, the transporter began to right itself. Eden pulled herself back onto a seat, and sat for a moment gasping. Then, in a strained whisper, she told Jonte to keep as quiet and still as he could, adding: They may not know we’re here.

Jonte was about to object, when, all of a sudden, he caught on. They had been hijacked! This first long trip away from the shelter was turning out stranger than he could ever have imagined. He was just about to ask Eden what was really going on, when the transporter shot into motion, throwing them back against their seats. For a few minutes it travelled normally, then began to lurch and jolt about as if being driven over very rough ground. Jonte began again to ask what was happening and where she thought they were going, but the psychologist seemed not to hear. Instead she appeared in shock, gripping the sides of her seat tightly and staring straight ahead with opaque eyes.

*

The journey turned out to be a long one. After an hour of being tossed around as the transporter travelled at high speed over uneven terrain, Jonte had the impression that it had driven up a ramp and parked. Then it began to vibrate and lurch erratically from side to side. A loud, rattling engine noise came from outside.

Oh my God! Eden suddenly exclaimed, they’re lifting us out by helicopter! The realisation seemed to revive her. She moved closer to where Jonte was sitting, and began talking in a rapid whisper.

When we get there, Jonte, somehow you’ve got to escape. We can’t let them have you. Jonte, this is terribly important. You’ll have to hide until we can mount a rescue. Perhaps I should have said something earlier. As far as we know, you’re the only one anywhere; and all the others want you too. I’ll try and think of something.

Eden, it seemed to Jonte, had raised rather a lot of questions. He decided to ask the one he felt the most important: who were they?

They could be any one of several, Eden whispered back. In the Union, even, there are people who are acting behind our backs. Then there are the Chinese, the Latin-Americans, the Mid-East… all of them are running projects. Perhaps we’ll get some idea from the time it’s taken when we land.

This gave Jonte his second and third questions. What exactly are these projects? he asked; and what have they to do with me?

Instead of replying, Eden was suddenly very still. Her blank eyes were unreadable, but Jonte had the impression that she was regretting her first response. The projects, whatever they were, were meant to be secret; or at least secret from him.

Then he remembered Eden’s earlier remark. The sudden removal from the shelter, and what had happened since, began to make sense. If it were true that he was unique, and with people after him, the administration would want to put him somewhere secure as soon as possible. But then: the only way in which he was unique, as far as he knew, was in being never able, for the whole of his life, to leave an environment shielded from the outside. And again: that had been known since his birth. So he was back to the question: why now?

For some time Jonte and Eden both remained silent, Jonte trying to work out possible answers, Eden inscrutable and unmoving. The vibrations and rattling engine noise continued to penetrate the interior of the transporter, though the lurches from side to side had stopped. Presumably they were in the air and moving forwards, though it was impossible to gain any sense of direction.

The silence between the two lasted about half an hour. By the end, Jonte had reached the conclusion that there must have been a sudden catastrophe or dramatic new discovery, with his peculiar condition significant in some way. Whatever the event was, it must have been a major one to justify what had happened. His own role, too, he realised with a mixture of sneaking pride and lurking panic, must also be major.

*

Abruptly, the transporter tilted forwards and side-to-side movements began again. Eden recovered from her apparent paralysis, and moved to Jonte’s side.

I think we’re about to land, she said. When we do, keep behind me if you can, and I’ll try to find a way to get you hidden.

Jonte didn’t think there was any chance of that happening. Where do you think we are? he asked.

We’ve been just over three hours, Eden replied. Not the Americas or China, then. Perhaps Africa; or the Mid-East; or still in the Union in the north or east.

The transporter began to level off; there was a sharp bump; the engine noise, together with the vibrations, stopped. At once the transporter began to moving again, as if being driven down a ramp. Jonte concluded that they had left the helicopter. After a short period of smooth motion, they once again began to travel over rough ground. Jonte saw Eden’s eyes search the interior as if looking for a window or crack; but of course there could be no gap in the shielding. To know where they were they would have to wait until they arrived, though that place would have to be fully shielded too - that is, if whoever they were wanted Jonte alive and well.

At last they came to a halt. Eden moved to the rear door and signalled that Jonte should stand behind her. When the door opened, Jonte saw at once that he had been right about their destination. The transporter was inside a large, windowless, dome-shaped hanger, the only lighting provided by suspended neon strips. Three men faced them, one carrying a hand-gun of some kind, another a large reel of adhesive tape. The third silently beckoned Eden. It was possible they had not yet noticed Jonte behind her.

Shouting Run and hide… now! Eden launched herself at the man with the gun. She did not even reach the ground before being struck by what turned out to be a taser. Jonte stood still at the open door of the transporter, and looked down at the men. All three had metallic grey European faces, close-cropped metallic copper hair and were wearing nondescript over-suits without identity panels or other markings.

The third man silently signalled to Jonte to leave the transporter, pointing first to the man with the taser and then the crumpled figure of Eden on the ground. The message was clear enough. Jonte lowered himself from the rear of the transporter and turned to take a better look at where he had arrived. He was virtually certain that no immediate harm would come to him - not, at least, from the three in the welcoming party - given the trouble taken to get him there.

He was only partly right. His hands were quickly taped behind his back, a loop placed round his neck, and another strip attached to it like a dog-lead. Two of the men then led him to a doorway at the other side of the hanger, while the third, Jonte could just see, was taping Eden’s arms to her side and hobbling her legs at the ankle.

Jonte and his escort reached the door, which one of them opened. The other went though, pulling Jonte after him.

*

As he quickly looked around, Jonte’s first impression was that the room they had entered was vaguely familiar: rather like the medical centre to which he had been taken some years before. After a moment’s thought, however, Jonte realised that this was bound to be the case. If Eden had not been entirely deceitful, both the authority she belonged to and its competitors wanted him in order to carry out some kind of medical research.

Still without saying a word, the third man led Jonte through an archway into a weakly-lit passage, turned to another door, opened it, and signalled that Jonte should go through. He did so; and at once his lead was slipped, the tapes round his neck and hands swiftly cut, and the door closed behind him. He hardly needed to confirm that it was also locked.

Looking round, Jonte saw that the room was much like his study/bedroom at the shelter - but of superior quality. Besides a bed and washing area there was a comfortable-looking easy chair and a low table; and one wall was almost entirely taken up with a video screen, almost as large as the ones in the shelter classrooms. A recess held a water spigot and a glass, as well as a bowl of the specially-grown, unmodified fruit which Jonte had until now only experienced as a special treat. This was not, Jonte realized, a randomly-chosen prison cell. It had been prepared - and that must have been some time in advance - for just him.

How did such long-term planning fit in with the abrupt move to get him away from the shelter, and his guess that people were after him as a result of some unexpected event?

*

The next few hours brought no answers. Nor did the next few days. One of his three captors would silently bring his meals at appropriate times. At first, he had expected that the large screen would quickly provide him with information; but when he switched it on all he received were instruction videos in his own language, hardly different from those he would have been seeing back in class. Once, he had been told, it had been possible to access many hundreds of channels, sounds and pictures too, sent out from anywhere in the world and without cable connections. The radiation had ended that. Communications were