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and imagine the scale at which it was happening the mental equivalent of eyestrain.
"A misconception that many people have is that making things small automatically means
being very precise," Eric commented. "In fact, it works the opposite way round. Suppose that
your technology sets a limit on the tolerances that you can work to a micrometer, say, which
is forty millionths of an inch. Suppose that gives a snug fit between parts for a mechanism when
it's built, let's say the size of a salt grain." Michelle nodded that she followed. He went on,
"Now, if you make your mechanism ten times smaller, the same tolerances would result in a
relative precision that's ten times sloppier. So it's not just a question of making everything
smaller. You have to achieve correspondingly higher precision as well."
"You mean, all your reference standards have to be reestablished," Michelle said.
"Exactly. You have to recreate the whole system of dimensional gauges, flatness gauges,
machine lead-screws, and so on to produce a new regime of precision tooling. Your entire
engineering practice has to be exported down to the reduced scale."
Michelle watched him looking down into the compartment like some cosmic lord contemplating
the strange realm that he had brought into being. She could understand why Corfe had
abandoned his normal taciturnity to come and talk to her. The chances of seriously awakening
Eric to the possibility of a criminal conspiracy directed against him would be about as remote as
the far side of the moon.
"I'm still amazed that you can have that kind of complexity on such a tiny scale at all,"
Michelle said. "It makes you wonder why we're as big as we are in the first place."
Eric smiled without looking up. "Erwin Schrödinger asked the same thing."
"Who's he?"
"Was. One of the pioneer quantum physicists. He concluded that it has to be that way for a
world that makes sense to be possible. The illusion of causality only takes over above a scale
large enough to swamp out quantum weirdness. . . . But you're right. It still doesn't explain why
we're as big as we are."
"That was your field originally, wasn't it?" Michelle said. "Before you turned commercial and
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got into microengineering. You were more of a physicist to start with."
Eric looked up and eyed her with mock severity through his gold-rimmed spectacles. "What's
this? Have you been checking up on me?"
"No. Just talking to Doug. He said you were excommunicated from the church for being a
heretic, and that was why you got out of the academic scene."
"Hmm."
"What did he mean?"
Eric didn't answer immediately, but moved away from the bench to glance briefly over the
status display for the two operating couplers. "Every generation of scientists eventually
becomes impervious to any ideas that challenge the ones they were raised on," he replied
finally. "They stop being the impartial seekers after truth that they're supposed to if they
ever were in the first place and turn into high priests defending the entrenched dogma."
"So why didn't it happen to you?"
"I don't know. Maybe I was born between generations too late to be a bishop in the
established church; too early to start my own. So I changed to a different religion and ended up
at Microbotics." Eric grinned as the irony struck him, and swept an arm to take in the
surroundings. "And now here I am, doing the same thing again. Maybe it's just in my nature."
Michelle would have been curious to learn more, but Eric changed the subject. "Anyhow, I
don't think that was what you wanted to talk about." He turned to her and waited. Michelle
shifted her eyes to indicate the two technicians in the couplers and returned a questioning look.
Eric nodded and led the way around a partition to an equipment bay where the sounds of
motors and extractor fans soaked up their voices.
"Back when you quit to set up on your own, there was this business about DNC having side
effects," Michelle said. "I'm concerned about it."
"My word, you are being thorough with your homework," Eric commented.
"It's what I'm paid for. So what's the real story?"
Eric made a dismissive gesture. "You just said it that was years ago now."
"Yes, but it never really went away, did it? And it could be coming back. Isn't there something
inScience this month about a call for putting direct neural work on hold?"
"You know about that too, eh?" Eric nodded and looked impressed.
"I have to know the truth. If there are any grounds at all for suspicion about this technology,
we can't risk using it in a project that would involve the general public."
Eric drew a long breath and exhaled it sharply, as if determined to put this to rest finally. "The
truth is that there was never a scrap of truth in it. There were some overactive imaginations at
work, coupled with sensationalized journalism. That's always a bad combination. When you peel
away the hype, it all boiled down to two cases of mental disturbance that turned out to have
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nothing to do with DNC."
"Yes, Doug told me about those."
"Then what else do you want me to add?"
Michelle raised a conciliatory hand. "Well, no disrespect or anything, Eric, but one person's
assurance isn't really enough in this kind of situation. I'd need to go through the records you
have of exactly what was said at the time, and any references that pertain. Also, it would help if
you could point me to other specialists in the field who could give an opinion."
"Yes, yes," Eric said, nodding several times. "Of course you can have all that. . . ." He read
the expression on her face that said there was more and let his eyebrows ask the question.
"Do you really think that was all there was to it?" she said. "Or could those imaginations and
those pieces of journalism have had a motive?"
"Oh, I see. Youhave been talking to Doug, haven't you."
"Just doing my job," Michelle reminded him.
"Jealousy at Microbotics. Fear of being left behind. A scheme concocted to discredit the
technology. . . ."
"It wouldn't be the first time that something like that has happened," Michelle pointed out.
"Practically anything you can name has happened, but that doesn't mean every piece of
tabloid gossip is right," Eric countered.
Michelle hesitated, wondering if it would be diplomatic to bring up the subject of Vanessa's
previous husband just then. But Corfe had been particularly anxious to make known his
suspicions regarding Jack Anastole's involvement. She could hardly get this close and shy
away now. "Wasn't Jack supposed to have had documented proof?" she said finally.
"Oh, you know about him too?"
"He said he had evidence that something like that was going on the names, everything."
Eric flashed a humorless grin. "That's what hesaid. And for a while I took him seriously. But
when the time came for him to produce it, it all suddenly evaporated. And so did he but I
suppose you know all that too."
"Isn't it possible that he could have been bought off?" Michelle ventured.
Eric showed both palms and made a face. "Anything'spossible . But any scientist would be
suspicious of a proposition contrived for no other reason than to explain away a lack of
evidence. So should any lawyer." He looked at her challengingly, as if to say that as far as he
was concerned that wrapped it all up. Michelle bit her lip.
"Why would he make something like that up?" she persisted.
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"Who knows? Perhaps he didn't actually make it up not consciously, anyway. More likely he
had his suspicions, just like Doug, got all fired up to build a case around them and wishful
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