Einstein's Dreams (Vintage Contemporaries) by Alan Lightman

Author:Alan Lightman [Lightman, Alan]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9780307789747
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2011-03-02T05:00:00+00:00

• INTERLUDE

Einstein and Besso sit at an outdoor café on Amthausgasse. It is noon, and Besso has talked his friend into leaving the office and getting some air.

“You don’t look so good,” says Besso.

Einstein shrugs his shoulders, almost embarrassed. Minutes go by, or perhaps only seconds.

“I’m making progress,” says Einstein.

“I can tell,” says Besso, studying with alarm the dark circles under his friend’s eyes. It is also possible that Einstein has stopped eating again. Besso remembers when he looked just like Einstein does now, but for a different reason. It was in Zürich. Besso’s father died suddenly, in his late forties. Besso, who had never gotten along with his father, felt grief-stricken and guilty. His studies came to a halt. To Besso’s surprise, Einstein brought him into his lodgings and took care of him for a month.

Besso sees Einstein now and wishes he could help, but of course Einstein does not need help. To Besso, Einstein is without pain. He seems oblivious of his body and the world.

“I’m making progress,” Einstein says again. “I think the secrets will come. Did you see the paper by Lorentz I left on your desk?”

“Ugly.”

“Yes. Ugly and ad hoc. It couldn’t possibly be right. The electromagnetic experiments are telling us something much more fundamental.” Einstein scratches his mustache and hungrily eats the crackers on the table.

For some time the two men are silent. Besso puts four cubes of sugar in his coffee while Einstein gazes at the Bernese Alps, far off in the distance and barely visible through the haze. In actuality, Einstein is looking through the Alps, into space. He sometimes gets migraines from such farsighted vision and must then lie on his green slip-covered sofa with his eyes closed.

“Anna wants you and Mileva to come for dinner next week,” says Besso. “You can bring the baby if you need to.” Einstein nods.

Besso has another coffee, sights a young woman at a neighboring table and tucks in his shirt. He is almost as disheveled as Einstein, who by this time is staring at galaxies. Besso indeed worries about his friend, although he has seen him this way in the past. Perhaps the dinner will be a diversion.

“Saturday night,” says Besso.

“I’m engaged Saturday night,” Einstein says unexpectedly. “But Mileva and Hans Albert can come.”

Besso laughs and says, “Saturday night at eight.” He is puzzled why his friend ever got married in the first place. Einstein himself can’t explain it. He once admitted to Besso that he had hoped Mileva would at least do the housework, but it hasn’t worked out that way. The unmade bed, the dirty laundry, the piles of dishes are just as before. And there have been even more chores with the baby.

“What did you think about the Rasmussen application?” asks Besso.

“The bottle centrifuge?”

“Yes.”

“The shaft will vibrate too much to be useful,” says Einstein, “but the idea is clever. I think it would work with a flexible mounting that could find its own rotation axis.”

Besso knows what that means. Einstein will

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