Waves And Particles

The room has no windows, and just one door. On the other side of that door are two security guards, making sure that no one who shouldn’t be inside can get in.
The bulk of the room is taken up by a rectangular table, polished to a high shine, and around it are twelve chairs. The people who sit in those chairs are all remarkable, either because of the power they wield or because of the power of their minds. Some of these people are household names, instantly recognisable as political leaders or ‘that man off the telly who talks about physics’, others are so low profile they probably don’t even exist on paper.
Then there’s me. I’m not a famous for my political views or my brain; I’m not famous at all. There are really only two reasons that I’m here; firstly I have the necessary security clearance and secondly, they need someone to pour the coffee. Yes, I’m the tea girl, the intern. I’m OK with that, I’m only 23 and to have the opportunity to be a part of this, however small, is going to add to an already impressive CV. One day I will be one of the people around the table, but for now I’m content to stay on the sidelines to watch and learn.
‘Alright, let’s get started,’ says the Prime Minister, ‘Scott, can you give us an overview of the situation please?’
Scott nods, he looks relaxed and confident to make the opening remarks in such august company.
‘As you are all aware, the first attack occurred just over a week ago now in a branch of Tesco’s in Taunton, Somerset. Originally dismissed as mass hysteria, it was only when similar events had occurred in multiple locations that a combined response was coordinated.’
I lean back against the wall and listen, everyone has a full cup in front of them and I won’t be needed for refills, for a while.
I know what incidents they’re talking about, I saw the news coverage; multiple cases of mass hysteria in crowded locations like shops and schools. The media wondered if it was terrorists, releasing hallucinogens into the population, but the security services denied it.
‘Our researchers have been doing overtime, trying to explain how these beings are entering our reality,’ my eyes widen, I wasn’t expecting the meeting to take that kind of turn, ‘and they believe that they are coming from a parallel universe.’
There is a general babble of consternation around the table, but Scott doesn’t look flustered, ‘I know it sounds like something from Doctor Who, but we have had some of the finest minds in Physics involved in the problem,’ Scott nods apologetically at the TV Scientist, ‘and the results are inescapable. An alien species has discovered how to break themselves down into their sub-atomic particles and fire themselves into our reality.’
There is silence around the table; all these leaders in their field are reduced to clearing their throats and taking nervous sips of coffee. No one wants to be the first to speak.
‘We haven’t been able to establish communication?’ this comes from the Deputy PM, the junior partner in a coalition, the moderate voice in a sea of right wingers.
‘No. Initially their intentions were not clear, they entered our reality, remained for a while and then left,’ Scott explains, ‘however now, when they come, they come with weapons.’
‘Why did they escalate?’ the Deputy PM asks again, earning him a scornful glance from his superior.
‘Does it matter? They’re alien and they are coming with weapons! This is an attack upon our nation!’
‘Of course it matters! This is first contact with an alien species-’ the DPM is cut off with an impatient wave of the hand from his superior.
I have a feeling that I can answer the DPM’s question. I’m pretty sure one of the news reports mentioned an outbreak of mass hysteria in an army camp. Soldiers tend to be armed. I’m betting someone shot, and that put our visitors on the defensive.
‘Have we had reports of sightings from any of our European neighbours?’ asks the PM.
‘No,’ says a man with impeccable appearance and stately manner. It’s not hard to imagine he is some kind of diplomat. ‘We have not reported our findings to anyone, either. The official line has been mass hysteria.’
‘We can’t keep this to ourselves!’ the DPM protests, but he may as well not be speaking.
‘So, we can assume this is a direct threat to the United Kingdom. Are our weapons likely to be effective on these…creatures?’ asks the PM.
A man in army uniform nods, ‘We believe so. We can meet the threat if we know where it is likely to come from.’
That confirms my suspicions that our military took first blood, how else would they know?
The PM looks back to Scott, ‘Any ideas?’
‘Yes Sir,’ Scott answers. ‘When the sightings first began, they were at apparently random locations and just a single entity emerged. We believe this is the simplest method of transport for them, to fire particles through a narrow opening where they reappear on the other side.’
The TV scientist furrows his brow. I can imagine him wondering how on earth he’s going to explain this in terms the man on the street can understand.
‘More recent events have included multiple individuals, some carrying complex looking equipment-’
‘It’s just not possible,’ the TV scientist speaks up, breaking protocols for these kinds of meetings but then perhaps he’s not familiar with them, ‘Sub-atomic particles aren’t intelligent, they would just bounce around until they found something to combine with.’
‘Ah, yes.’ Scott says, ‘you’re skipping ahead a little there, Professor. You see, when one of the beings was destroyed we found a small, spherical device left behind. We believe that this device holds the pattern into which the particles must reform.’
The Professor opens his mouth to dispute this, and then snaps it shut again.
Scott continues on, confidently, ‘We have been able to create a device which will, forgive me the use of Sci-Fi jargon but I do think it’s the best way to have lay people understand it, reverse the polarity. We can send the particles back, in effect.’
There is silence.
‘We could do more than that,’ I hear a voice say, and realise with horror that it was me who spoke. Everyone at the table has turned to face me, and I have a long moment to imagine my future. If I’m lucky I’ll just lose everything I’ve worked for so far, if I’m unlucky…’
‘What do you mean?’ asks Scott.
‘Erm, the pattern device,’ I say, ‘couldn’t we alter it? Get it to send a simple message? Send something in Morse Code, using waves and particles?’
The military man clears his throat, and I think I’m about to be ejected from the room when instead he says, ‘This isn’t my field but, isn’t it by splitting the atom that you make a nuclear bomb?’
I go cold all over.
‘Wait, wait!’ the Deputy PM speaks up, ‘You can’t launch an all out attack on these beings, we know nothing about them!’
Something wordless happens in gestures between the PM and the Security Service. I find two, well built men at my side and they each take an arm and march me from the room.
I don’t know what my future holds now, but it doesn’t matter. I think I just had an idea that has inspired genocide.
I won’t get a chance to tell anyone, my smart phone is removed along with all my personal effects. I’m put into the back seat of a dark car, tinted windows, and everyone around me is armed. I sit in the back of the car, being driven who knows where. I lean my head against the cool of the window pane and wish that I could turn myself into a waves and particles. I want to escape this new reality.