[ The Story So Far: read here https://eurolit.net/?p=4229 ]
Five minutes. Four minutes and fifty-eight seconds. Dr Cybelius stared at the chemistry speech. Then at the Physics letter. Then at the ceiling. Then at his cabin bag. Something about the cabin bag caught his attention. The unidentified metal object.
He had packed it without knowing what it was. He took it out. It was a small cylindrical piece of metal with a curious blue button on one end. He pressed it. Nothing happened. He pressed it again. Still nothing.
‘Never mind,’ he whispered and put the unidentified object into his pocket.
Three minutes. The supervisor opened the door.
‘Doctor, they are ready for you.’
Dr Cybelius stood up.
‘Excellent.’
‘You seem pale.’
‘I have laryngitis.’
‘But you are speaking.’
‘Only temporarily.’
He walked into the auditorium. The room was magnificent. Distinguished scientists, academics, dignitaries and members of the Nobel Committee filled the hall. Dr Cybelius approached the lectern. He looked at the audience. The audience looked at him. He looked at his twenty-page chemistry speech. Then something extraordinary happened. His acute laryngitis failed to materialise. He cleared his throat.
‘Good morning.’
His voice was perfectly normal. He panicked.
‘That is unfortunate,’ he whispered, but the microphone magnified his voice, carrying the confession to a stunned crowd.
The audience laughed. Dr Cybelius assumed they were laughing at the joke. He decided to continue.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, members of the Nobel Committee, it is an extraordinary honour to stand before you today and speak about…’
He looked at the first page.
‘…the transformative potential of HO₂.’
There was a brief silence. Nobody moved. Dr Cybelius continued.
‘The hydroperoxyl radical…’
He stopped.
‘This is the wrong speech.’
A few people smiled. Dr Cybelius turned the pages. Page after page. Chemistry. More chemistry. Radicals. Equations. Wastewater. AI-controlled treatment systems. He looked up.
‘I have won the Nobel Prize in Physics.’
The audience applauded.
‘Unfortunately, I prepared a speech for Chemistry.’
Someone laughed. Dr Cybelius felt strangely calm. Perhaps panic had reached its natural limit and had simply given up. He put the speech down.
‘Actually, I may have something to say about Physics.’
The audience became attentive. Dr Cybelius thought for a moment.
‘Six months ago, I accidentally put petrol into my car. Instead of diesel.’
A few people exchanged glances. One Nobel Committee member leaned forward.
‘The car worked.’
More laughter.
‘I then realised that the car was electric.’
The laughter became louder. Dr Cybelius smiled.
‘At the time, I considered this an administrative matter.’
The audience laughed again.
‘But now I wonder.’
He reached into his pocket and took out the little metal cylinder and held it up.
‘This morning, I found this in my cabin bag. I have no idea what it is.’
The audience laughed.
‘It appears to be some kind of laboratory component.’
He pressed the blue button. There was a faint click. The lights in the auditorium flickered. The projector switched itself on. Every screen in the building suddenly displayed the same image. A rotating three-dimensional model of a molecule appeared. The audience fell silent. Dr Cybelius stared at it.
‘I have no idea what that is either.’
A physicist in the front row stood up.
‘Doctor!’
‘Yes?’
‘Don’t touch the button.’
Dr Cybelius immediately touched it again. The molecule disappeared. The auditorium went dark. There was a collective gasp. Then the lights came back on. The screens displayed a series of equations. The physicist was now running towards the stage.
‘Doctor Cybelius, where did you get that?’
‘I packed it yesterday.’
‘Where did you find it?’
‘In my laboratory.’
‘Who gave it to you?’
‘I can’t remember.’
‘Do you know what it does?’
‘No.’
The physicist stared at the screens. Then at Dr Cybelius. Then back at the screens.
‘Do you understand what you have just done?’
‘No.’
‘You have demonstrated a previously unknown mechanism for converting ambient electromagnetic fluctuations into usable energy.’
Dr Cybelius blinked.
‘Is that a good thing?’
‘It is impossible.’
‘Ah.’
The physicist turned towards the Nobel Committee.
‘He has just demonstrated it.’
Dr Cybelius looked at the little device in his hand.
‘But I thought this was a screwdriver.’
The audience erupted. A Nobel Committee member stood.
‘Doctor Cybelius, where did you obtain the theoretical model behind this?’
Dr Cybelius hesitated.
‘I may have written it down.’
‘When?’
He thought.
‘Possibly while looking for my passport.’
‘When did you discover the equations?’
‘I believe I was trying to calculate how many teabags I could fit into my cabin bag.’
The physicist looked horrified.
‘You derived a new field equation while packing tea?’
‘Possibly.’
Another scientist rushed onto the stage.
‘Doctor, this is extraordinary. Your equations appear to unify several unresolved problems in quantum field theory.’
Dr Cybelius stared at him.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘Because I copied most of them from the back of a restaurant receipt.’
The auditorium became completely silent. A woman in the front row whispered:
‘He’s joking.’
Dr Cybelius looked at her.
‘No, I am not.’
The physicist examined the receipt. His face went white.
‘These are correct.’
Dr Cybelius smiled weakly.
‘That is fortunate.’
The Permanent Secretary approached the stage.
‘Doctor Cybelius.’
‘Yes?’
‘We have just realised something.’
‘Another misunderstanding?’
‘No.’
The Secretary looked at the Nobel Committee.
‘Your discovery explains why the car worked.’
Dr Cybelius stared at him.
‘What?’
‘The petrol.’
‘Yes?’
‘It wasn’t the car that was running.’
‘What was running?’
‘The new energy system.’
Dr Cybelius looked at the metal cylinder. Then at the equations. Then at the audience.
‘So the car wasn’t actually electric?’
‘It was.’
‘Then what powered it?’
The physicist answered quietly.
‘You did.’
There was a long silence. Dr Cybelius looked deeply troubled.
‘Does this mean I have to give the Chemistry speech after all?’
‘No,’ said the Permanent Secretary.
‘Why not?’
‘Because you have just accidentally changed Physics.’
Dr Cybelius nodded.
‘I see.’
He returned to the lectern. The audience waited. He looked at his twenty-page speech. Then he folded it in half and put it into his pocket.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘I suppose I should thank the Nobel Committee.’
He paused.
‘And apologise to Chemistry.’
The audience laughed and applauded. Dr Cybelius looked at the clock. He had exactly eleven minutes left. Then he remembered his acute laryngitis. He cleared his throat. Nothing happened. He cleared it again. Still nothing. He looked disappointed. Finally, he turned towards the supervisor.
‘Could you please read the rest of my speech?’
The supervisor stared at him.
‘But you don’t have laryngitis.’
‘I know.’
‘Then why?’
Dr Cybelius picked up his cup of tea.
‘Because I have biscuits.’
And, with the Nobel Prize ceremony still in progress, Dr Guy B. Cybelius sat down in the armchair on the podium and began eating them. Nobody in the room noticed that the lucky alarm clock inside his cabin bag had started producing electricity. Nobody except the Nobel Committee. They quietly made a note. There would be another prize. Probably next Tuesday.
