Cold Dark Matter. Alex Brett

      The author wishes to thank the Gemini Telescope — GMOS Team for their generous permission to use the cover photograph. This image of spiral galaxy M-74 was obtained using Gemini's new multi-object spectrograph, an instrument jointly designed and built by Canada and the United Kingdom. For more information and images see www.gemini.edu. Support your local astronomers.

      Author's Note

      Truth is stranger than fiction. One of the greatest challenges in writing fiction is to take those aspects of a story based on fact and make them believable to the reader. Cold Dark Matter is a work of fiction. The people in this book do not exist. Although many of the book's locations appear similar to real places, they are not. All my locations have been purposely distorted through the lens of fiction. The underpinnings of Cold Dark Matter, though, and the most unbelievable aspects of the story are based on fact. The summit of Mauna Kea is one of the world's foremost sites for optical astronomy. Dark matter was discovered by the method described in this book, albeit by an intrepid woman astronomer from the United States. And the Fruit Machine was built and used. Real science. Real events. Real technology. Perhaps we can learn from our errors.

      Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise

      in perfect light;

      I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful

      of the night.

      Sarah Williams

      "The Old Astronomer to His Pupil"

       chapter one

      In the world of science to see is to believe. To observe is to know. That which is tangible, which can be recorded and measured, is defined as the truth. Yet over 90 percent of the universe is completely invisible to us. Astronomers know that this dark matter exists because they observe its effect on all visible objects, but where the dark matter resides, and what it might be made of, remains a mystery.

      Yves Grenier had been working on dark matter.

      I remember thinking, as I glanced through the reprints, that this must somehow connect, it must be important, but the drone of the jet engines, the Merlot served with dinner, and the stress of my hasty departure from Ottawa had all taken their toll. I could no longer concentrate on anything but sleep. I closed the folder, tucked it into the pocket under my tray table, and extended my seat back the few centimetres that it was willing to go. If I was lucky I might get a few hours of cramped, stale slumber before the plane landed in Kona on the Big Island of Hawaii. I closed my eyes and tried to relax, but instead of falling into dreams my mind moved inexorably back to Ottawa and the gruesome image of Yves Grenier that had put me on this plane.

       chapter two

      The body was not celestial. There was no flicker of ancient light, no rings or orbiting moons, just a dark, lifeless form dangling from a cable high in the telescope's struts. From this angle, from the observing floor some twenty metres below, it looked like the corpse was bowing its head in a final tribute to the giant mirror at its feet. I pushed the photograph back across the table.

      "I take it he's one of ours."

      Duncan took the picture and, studiously avoiding the image, slipped it back into a plain brown envelope. I'd forgotten he was squeamish. When it was safely back inside he slouched forward, wrapped his hands around his coffee cup, and stared into the black liquid. The deep lines and dark bags beneath his eyes were thrown into high relief.

      A customer squeezed by our table making for the door. It was an odd place for a meeting, a rundown café on the wrong end of Wellington Street, but it was also far from the hustle and prying ears of Parliament Hill, which was, I assumed, why Duncan had chosen it. Finally he looked up.

      "He was one of ours. That," he motioned to the envelope, "happened yesterday. Dr. Yves Grenier, resident astronomer at one of our telescopes in Hawaii. Bright, young, and talented. What an unbelievable waste." He shook his head and, with a weariness I don't remember ever seeing before, slowly lifted his cup. This was not a social call. Duncan had phoned me just

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