Data Spike
(Version created 19 November 2007)
“Are you Michael Zhang?”
The little man didn’t answer. Francesco Romani stood beside his chair and sniffed. It obviously was him. No wonder there aren’t any visitors down this end of the room. Michael’s delicate little hand pushed his mouse across the desktop. Too busy to speak to me. Francesco saw a pointer move on one of his screens. A button labelled STOP RUN flashed. A counter fell from 234 to zero.
“I’m busy.” Michael’s balding little head never moved.
“But surely you could spare me a couple of minutes, Dr. Zhang?” Francesco let his impatience resonate in his voice.
Michael changed a box labelled RUNTYPE from Commissioning to Calibration.
Francesco sniffed again. Unique aroma. So the rumour’s true. He never washes.
Michael clicked START NEW RUN. The counter started again:
223, 227, 224
Michael finally condescended to swivel his chair. He glanced at Francesco’s stomach then looked up at his face with a frown which became slightly fearful as he recognised his visitor and stood up, going pale.
Time to put our relationship on a friendly footing. Francesco beamed, his huge paw engulfing Michael’s tiny hand. “Francesco Romani.” He was at least two heads taller than Michael. “So pleased to meet you, Dr. Zhang.”
Michael looked at him with a puzzled expression.
“I understand the Muon Spectrometer is on line now?” The chair sank beneath Romani’s weight.
“Yes, Professor, but we have just started calibrating it.”
Francesco looked round with wide eyes, as if searching for the others who made up the “we”, then looked at Michael with a twinkle, but he didn’t seem to see the joke.
“The rest of my team will be back soon,” Michael said hurriedly. “They’ve just gone for breakfast. I’m sure they won’t be long.” He glanced at the screen. Francesco followed his eyes.
The counter was still counting.
219, 221, 234
“No no, it is you I want to speak to.”
“Me?”
“Am I right in thinking you are of Irish nationality?”
“I can explain about that, Professor Romani. I was planning to renew my work permit next week–”
“Work permit?” Surely he doesn’t think I would be interested in such trivia? “No, that is of no interest to me, Dr. Zhang. Talk to our Human Resource Office about that. Look, I have a little favour to ask you. I am looking for an Irish scientist and you are the only one I can find. As you know, we don’t have many in CERN since Ireland is not yet a member state.” And if they’re all like you, I’m not sure we want too many.
“I’m not really a typical Irishman.”
Thank God for that.
“The only Irish things about me are my forenames and my place of birth. The rest of me is pure Chinese. Why do you need an Irish scientist specifically?”
“Do you know the new Irish Ambassador to the United Nations in Geneva?”
“No, I’m sorry. I don’t have much time for politics.”
Or bathing. “That doesn’t matter.” Francesco leaned forward and lowered his voice. I’ll have to tolerate the smell. “I have invited her Excellency Brigit Fitzpatrick to visit CERN this morning. I am very keen for Ireland to become a member, as I am sure you are also. Am I right?”
Michael shrugged. “I really don’t care. I’ve never had any affection for the land of my birth.”
Nor it for you, I should think. “Oh come come, Dr Zhang. You work in Cambridge now, don’t you? If Ireland was a member you could work for one of the Irish universities. You might even be able to lead your own particle physics department.”
Michael hesitated. “To be honest I don’t really think I would go back to Ireland even if the country did join. My future is in Cambridge and here in CERN.” Michael’s eyes flipped back to the event count ticking across the screen. Francesco couldn’t resist looking too.
227, 12987, 2656
Looks odd. Glad I’m out of all this technical stuff now. When you get to my age you’re better suited to administration. “I see,” Romani said. “Still I would deem it a great personal favour if you could just speak to Madame Fitzpatrick…” Francesco gave him the spiel but he could tell Michael wasn’t listening. His eyes and mind were fixed on the screen. “…explain to her the benefits of Ireland becoming a member from a scientist’s point of view. Would you do that for me?”
“Very well, Professor Romani.” Michael was still watching the event count.
2743, 2687, 2712
“So you will speak to her?”
“Yes, I’ll speak to her.”
“Excellent, Dr. Zhang.” Romani stood up. “Thank you very much. I will bring her over here later on this morning. Will you be here about ten-thirty?”
“Yes,” Michael nodded absently and began rapidly typing commands into a Mercator window.
Francesco warned the Run Co-ordinator that he would be bringing a VIP over later in the morning, walked through the ATLAS Control Building to the main door, held it open for a dark, unsmiling woman who had just run across the car park in the rain, and lit a cigarette. Sheltering in the doorway from the rain and the icy northeasterly wind, his tired eyes patiently searched the grey sky for some sign of the Sun as he thought about Michael Zhang. Will he do the business with the Ambassador? Pity there’s nobody else. They say he lives in a caravan. In the woods. Alone. I’m not surprised.
