Jukin’ at P.J.’s
ALICE and George returned to their table at P.J.’s, rejoining Roger and Susan. Alice seemed happy and a bit out of breath. George was glad that his initial performance as a dancer to country and western music had been at least adequate.
He had never been to P.J.’s before, although he’d heard about it from the students. He was glad that their table was well away from the juke box, permitting some conversation. George looked at Roger. He was looking pretty good, considering. “Howler you doing, old friend,” he asked.
“Fine,” Roger said. “It was a bit disconcerting to have a seizure, particularly when I’d never had one before, but there seem to be no lasting effects. I slept eight hours last night, woke up feeling fine, and I’ve felt unusually relaxed all day.”
“Yes, he’s fine,” said Susan, apparently speaking with some authority.
“So you think you know where your Snark-thing stopped?” Roger asked. “That’s exciting.”
“Maybe,” said George. “We tracked it to a particular lead-glass scintillation counter. The slow-control archives show that about the time of the Snark event, that unit started drawing excessive photomultiplier string current and has been doing so ever since. It could be that the Snark is embedded in it and is making it scintillate continuously. It could also be that the Snark or something else caused the unit to develop a light leak.
“In any case, the unit is drawing excess current and needs to be replaced. I’ll do that as soon as there’s a shutdown. That will be when the next maintenance cycle starts and the circulating beam in the ring is dumped, maybe in a week. Then we’ll see.”
Roger nodded sagely and patted George on the shoulder. “Retain your faith, my son,” he said. “Everyone must believe in something. In my own case, I believe that I’m ready for another Lone Star. Anyone else want one?”
Alice and Susan both nodded.
“Sure,” said George. “Western dancing promotes a powerful thirst.”
Roger disappeared through the crowd in the direction of the bar.
“Well, look who’s here,” said a voice.
George turned to see Belinda walking toward them, accompanied by a man who looked familiar.
Belinda was wearing a flowery low-cut dress, her astrological jewelry setting off her cleavage. She smiled at George. “Hello Dr. Griffin. I’d like you to meet my friend Whitey,” she said. “How are you, Miss Lang. We spotted you folks over here and came by to say hello.”
“George, Whitey is my next door neighbor,” Alice said.
George shook hands with Whitey and introduced Susan. “It’s a small world. And I’m George, not Dr. Griffin,” he said. He gestured to a pair of chairs at the table. “Why don’t you two join us?” He recognized Whitey now. The man had a reputation as an electrician who was smarter than he looked and could deal with the tricky problems.
“Surely would like that,” said Whitey, and they sat down. Conversation was becoming difficult as the music increased in volume. Finally, Whitey turned and said, “Alice, I was wonderin’ if you would do me the honor of a dance.”
“Of course,” said Alice. They walked toward the dance floor just as Roger was returning with four long-neck bottles of Lone Star. George introduced him to Belinda and explained that Roger was a new arrival from CERN.
“How do you like Texas, Roger?” Belinda asked. Roger looked around the room. “I’m liking it more and more,” he said. “It has its own unique flavor, and I seem to be acquiring the taste. You have good people here.”
Belinda nodded. “Did you know,” she asked, “that a lot of famous Americans originally came from Texas? Like George Washington?”
George saw that a tall Texas tale was coming and smiled.
“George Washington came from Texas?” asked Roger, looking skeptical. “Are you sure?”
“Oh, yes,” said Belinda, smiling. “The story goes that little George got a small hatchet for his eighth birthday, and he went outside the ranch house and cut down his father’s favorite mesquite bush with it. When Father Washington came home from rounding up his herd, he noticed that his mesquite bush had been cut down, and he became very angry. ‘Who in the Hea-yul cut down ma mesquite bush?’ he demanded. George walked bravely up to his father and said, ‘Father, I cannot tell a lie. I did it with my little hatchet.’ Father Washington scowled down at his son for a long time. Finally he came to a decision. ‘George,’ he said, ‘you go on in and pack up your saddle bags. Tell your Ma we’re movin’ to Virginia. You’re sure as Hea-yul never gonna make it in Texas!’”
Alice and Whitey returned to the table while the others were still laughing. “It’s a wonderful coincidence that we met you here,” she said to Belinda.
“It’s particularly nice because Whitey’s on the night shift this week and he was scheduled to work tonight,” Belinda said. “He was supposed to be doing wiring at the lab all night, but one of the ring quadrupoles quenched. They had to rearrange the schedule and let him off, so we decided not to let a perfectly good Saturday night go to waste.”
George looked up in surprise. “The ring is down?” His thoughts were shifting rapidly, formulating a plan .
“Sure is,” said Whitey. “Hell of a mess. Gonna be down ‘till they change out that quad. They sent all the operating crews home for the weekend.”
George abruptly stood. “Then, I’m very sorry, but Alice and I have work to do. We’re off to hunt a Snark.” He looked as Susan and Roger. “Sorry. I’d planned to do this next week, but if the ring is down now, we’d better take the opportunity.”
“I completely understand,” said Roger. “I hope you find something.”
“Good huntin’,” said Whitey.