Alter Ego
GEORGE Griffin rose as the two visitors entered his Fermilab office. He was apprehensive about meeting these people, even though the appointment had been arranged by the Fermilab director himself.
“Hello, George,” said the taller of the men. “My name is George, too.” His hair was dark blonde, like Griffin’s. Both men were wearing thousand dollar suits that fitted them beautifully. They looked out of place at Fermilab. “I’m George Preston and this is my colleague, Roger Fulton. We’re board members of the Iris Foundation.” They shook hands.
Griffin felt a surprising tingle accompanying each handshake. “I’m glad to meet you,” he said. “On the phone you mentioned a job proposition. I hope you understand that I just arrived here from CERN two weeks ago, and I’m not exactly exploring job opportunities at the moment.” He’d read the recent news reports about the new major research foundation with a big endowment. It seemed too good to be true.
Preston nodded. His face looked strangely familiar, but Griffin could not remember in what context. “We understand your commitment to your new position here,” Preston said, “but we wanted to talk to you anyway. The Iris Foundation is now in the process of creating two major new research foundations, the Iris Institutes. One of these will be located in Europe and the other in the United States. The Foundation has very deep pockets for supporting fundamental research. The initial foundation endowment is over five billion dollars, and we expect that to grow as the companies that support it prosper. We are here to offer you the job of Research Director of the new Iris Institute in this country. The starting salary is around $300,000 per year, plus benefits.”
Griffin felt a rush of adrenaline. “Research Director? Surely this is a joke. You must want a prominent Nobel Laureate for a position and salary like that. I’m just a mid-level high energy experimentalist. I only make $45,000 a year, just a little more than I was getting at CERN. I don’t even have a permanent job at Fermilab, just a five-year appointment.”
“I know that our offer must seem strange, George,” said the man introduced as Roger Fulton. He had a clipped British accent. “But we already know that you are the man we want for the job. Let me tell you a story. It begins on a warm spring day in May of the year 2004, when I was sitting alone at a table at the CERN cafeteria, minding my own business ...”
When Roger had finished, Griffin sat quiet for a while, thinking as he looked at Preston. “You want me to believe that you are me, but seventeen years older. If anything you look younger than I do. You might be my younger brother.”
“I made myself younger with a bit of re-Writing of some basic cell biology” said Preston. “I also Wrote a lot of other changes for my body that aren’t apparent. For example, I don’t have to exercise to stay in shape any more. I’m also smarter than before, my reflexes are quicker, and I can cause my time-sense to speed up or slow down by about a factor of ten. I can set my own muscle tone, and I can bench press four times my body weight. I’m immune to cancer and other diseases. I can changed my appearance and facial characteristics too, but I haven’t, except for shaving off the beard. My whiskers don’t grow now unless I ask them to.”
Griffin’s eyes narrowed. Was this some kind of con game?
“But, OK,” Preston continued. “Here’s some proof you might believe.” He extracted a black stamp pad and a sheet of white paper from his briefcase and placed them on the desk. Then he held out his right index finger to Griffin. “Look at my fingertip closely,” he said. “Make sure that I’m not using a rubber overlay or something.”
Griffin nodded.
Preston rolled his finger across the stamp pad and then across the paper, leaving a clear black fingerprint with a clear overhand loop pattern. “Now you do the same thing.”
Griffin did so, and then looked closely at the two fingerprints. “They’re the same.” he said quietly.
“OK, let’s get to the point,” said Preston. “What do you think of our offer, now that you understand what we have in mind?”
What if I tell you I think you’re crazy, Griffin thought. “What if I tell you I’m not interested, that I like what I’m doing here?” he asked.
“I already know that you like the work,” said Preston. “You’ll do rather well here. Your group will clinch the discovery of the top quark in about two years, although it’s going to be rather messier than you might think. You’ll also turn up preliminary evidence that the quark may have substructure. You and Grace will not have any children. You’ll land a permanent faculty position at the University of Washington in Seattle. About the same time you and Grace will part company, and she’ll go back to England. I know that you’re already having problems. Following that, in my world you joined the LEM collaboration and began to work primarily at the SSC. I’m not sure what you’ll do if the SSC project is canceled, probably join one of the LHC collaborations at CERN, either ATLAS or CMS. That, perhaps, won’t work out so well. Roger tells me the LHC at its present design energy is unlikely to get an definitive Higgs signal. So if you’re going to switch your research path, this might be a good time to do it.”
How would he know that Grace and I are having problems, Griffin wondered.
“I see that you still don’t believe me,” said Preston. “OK, let me tell you some things about yourself that nobody else would know ...”
Griffin listened as Preston began to talk, listing childhood events and personal secrets. Griffin was perplexed. How could he know these things? Had he mentioned them to his coworkers, to his friends, to Grace? Did he talk in his sleep? No, there was no way this guy could know ... he must ... “OK! Stop! You win!” he said, feeling embarrassed, exposed. “I give up, dammit. You must be me.”
Griffin was quiet for a while. “What is the research at Iris going to be like?” he asked finally. “Not high energy physics, I suspect.”
“We’ve told you some of it already,” said Roger. “As Director of Research, it will be partly up to you. Our plan is to select a few areas of basic and applied research and to move forward rapidly, to reach the point where we’re once again doing original research instead of learning from the Makers. We want to hire a lot of bright young people, with an emphasis on quick uptake and flexibility. You’ll be responsible for leading and guiding these young people. For a time it will be necessary to keep quiet about our information from the Makers in order to minimize the culture-shock effect. We hope we can get through that period of secrecy in about ten years, perhaps sooner.”
“I’ve always hated secrecy,” said Griffin.
“I know,” said Preston, “you were very uncomfortable with all the security during the summer job you had with that defense contractor. But in this case it’s necessary, George. I also know you can do deal with it when you have to.”
Griffin took a deep breath. He was quiet for a while. “OK,” he said finally, “I’ll do it. But, I want you to understand my reason. I’m thinking of all the people I know who might be alternate candidates for the job. And I think they’d all probably screw it up, in one way or another. So I suppose I’ll have to do it myself. But let me tell you, up front, I’m not at all fond of administration, and I’m going to really hate the secrecy part. I want you to understand that.”
“I do understand, George,” said Preston. “I would say exactly the same thing, of course.”
Griffin frowned at him. He wondered what it was going to be like, working for a man who knows exactly how you think, who knows every thought you’ve ever had, up to now.