decide—under no pressure at all—what would be most appropriate. I think this could be a dignified solution for everyone involved.”
As he finished his speech, Aydelotte got up and, with forced enthusiasm, offered his hand to Bacon. Mr. Bird coughed slightly, indicating the end of that part of the conversation, and walked toward the door.
“Why don’t we go for a walk,” he said to Bacon, in a voice that clearly wasn’t about to take no for an answer. Bacon followed him. Aydelotte’s talk was like an electric charge that made him forget about his headache.
“Good luck, Bacon,” said the director.
Just as had occurred with his migraine, that one single sentence seemed to be a sign telling Bacon that he would not see Aydelotte—or the institute—for a long, long time.
“Have you ever visited here before?” Bacon asked Mr. Bird to break the ice.
“Once or twice, yes.”
They started their walk as good friends would, going nowhere in particular. Mr. Bird did not seem to be in a rush; he would occasionally stop to admire the daisies and the decorative shrubs along the way, as if he were an amateur horticulturist.
“So, you work for the government?” Bacon asked, starting to feel nauseated again. “Is there somewhere specific you’d like to go?”
“No.”
They walked through the entire campus and when they were finished, started over again. One thing was certain: Mr. Bird had all the time in the world. But then, all of a sudden, he stopped and looked Bacon squarely in the face, as if he finally deigned to reveal the purpose of his visit.
“Is it true that Einstein discovered the fourth dimension?”
At first, Bacon wasn’t sure he understood the question. He wondered if his headache was making him hear things.
“No, not exactly,” he said after a few seconds. “In his theory, time is the fourth dimension. Human beings live within a four-dimensional universe, one of space-time.”
“What about the formula that was published in the newspapers—does it prove the existence of the human soul?”
“No. All it says is that energy is equal to mass times the speed of light squared.”
Mr. Bird scratched his head theatrically. Then, as if he had merely asked the question to set the scene for his own monologue, he launched into his theory.
“I’m not so convinced about that relativity theory. I think there are certain things that simply aren’t relative. Good and evil, for example, are not relative. That line of reasoning only leads to crime, don’t you think? I know too many scoundrels who use the idea of relativity to try and escape punishment. Can you imagine what would happen if we all thought everything was relative and that every single one of us could do as we pleased? There is nothing relative about being a traitor. There’s nothing relative about being a murderer. To start a war that kills millions of people, as Hitler has done, why, there’s nothing relative about that.”
Bacon felt intimidated.
“I agree with you. But what you’re talking about doesn’t have anything to do with the relativity theory or with Einstein,” Bacon replied. “He was only speaking in terms of physics, not human nature.”
“To me it’s the same thing.”
“No. Einstein asserts that movement is relative only for those observers who are in motion themselves (as we are walking, for example, the women walking toward us seem to be advancing faster than they really are). He states that light is the only objective point of reference, since its velocity always remains the same, independent of where we are when we measure it. Moral issues have nothing to do with these facts, Mr. Bird.”
“And do you consider this a truly important discovery?”
“Of course I do.”
“I apologize for my insistence, but I have to disagree. If things were that way, wouldn’t we all realize it? I don’t believe there exists a fourth dimension, nor do I believe in atoms or any of those things, because I have never seen them for myself.”
“You aren’t the only one,” Bacon replied resignedly. He was beginning to get exasperated. Discussing physics with a man who probably didn’t even know the meaning of Π was ridiculous. And Mr. Bird seemed too convinced of his own beliefs to be persuaded that Einstein might know more than he did.
“Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Oh, no. I’m sorry, it was just a curiosity of mine.” Bird suddenly seemed chagrined by the digression. “I have met so many men like you that I’ve often wondered what in God’s name you think about all the time. Physicists spend hours and hours just thinking. They do it while running around their offices, when they’re at home, in the shower, before going to bed. I bet they even think about all those numbers while they make love to their wives.”
“We’re not all like that,” Bacon said, hoping to lighten the mood. “But why do you know so much about physicists and their habits?”
“I have had to familiarize myself with you. It’s my job.”
“You still haven’t told me exactly what your job is, Mr. Bird.”
“I will, in due course. Why don’t you start off by telling me why you have been following Professor Einstein every day.”
Over and over again in his dreams, Bacon had imagined someone asking him this very question. He had even invented several possible explanations, although they all flew out of his head when confronted by Bird’s question.
“Please, don’t try to deny it,” Mr. Bird assured him in a velvety voice, the kind you hear in the movies. “You have been following Professor Einstein, and we have been following you.”
“So who are you, then?”
“You haven’t answered my question, Professor.” Bird’s voice grew more menacing.
“You won’t believe my answer,” said Bacon, trying to smile.
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that.”
“I swear to you I don’t know why. One day I thought I would try to strike up a conversation with him as he walked home for lunch, but I didn’t have the nerve, so I decided just to walk with him … from afar.”
“Walk with him from afar. And you decided to do that every day?”
“Yes. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s the truth.”
“And do you think Professor Einstein never saw you doing this?”
“Well, once, but I didn’t think he noticed.”
“And what would you say if I told you Professor Einstein had alerted the police?”
“You’re not serious.” Bacon started to perspire. “It was a harmless thing,
