The Fiendish Fermion Fandangle - Part I

We start in deep space. Pick a star, and zoom in.

The star is a smallish yellow one. It is remarkable in that it is so unusually warm and gentle - neither spewing forth scads of deadly x-rays nor fading into embers. A nice, safe, middle-class star, a nice change from the gaudy chaos that's often the norm in the Universe. At first glance it has four planets plus debris. Zoom in a little closer and five more planets resolve themselves, easily overlooked by tourists who are dazzled by the bigger ones sporting dramatic rings or big red eyes. Each of the nine have their own unique character.

The third one out is arguably the prettiest. It's a bright blue with green and white splotches, an ocean world. The careful observer will notice a spider's web of lights on the planet's night side. It's inhabited, cities and everything. Look little closer and I'll draw your attention to one group of lights. Like the star, and the planet, it isn't the biggest or flashiest but it is the one we're interested in tonight. The eastern half of that group of lights is called Maple Ridge, it's one of the largest cities in the arbitrarily bounded nation-state called Canada. Just to the west is its twin city of Vancouver, but we're interested in the eastern one for now.

Finally, look as closely as you can, to a rooftop on one of the middle-sized buildings downtown. That's where you'll find him, sitting on a ledge sipping tea from the plastic cup that comes with the thermos bottle.

Hydrogen Guy.

He's dressed in basic black slacks, neatly pressed, and a dress shirt of a royal blue. Around his waist is a belt fitted with many oddly shaped compartments, and an unpolished platinum sheath for a very short sword. His red necktie is monogrammed "HG" in yellow. A long blue cape with a faint shimmer to it flutters behind him. Topping off the ensemble, a light helmet consisting of a skullcap and a mask that comes down over his eyes. The helmet sports a yellow feather, which he insists makes him look "jaunty". He sips his tea contentedly, hoping perhaps tonight he'll make it home to watch Conan.

He stops barely before he finishes the thought, and looks up from his tea. Something is not right. He sniffs the air, and catches a million faint scents no one else on the planet can detect. Instantly he is aware of their chemical composition. He identifies what compounds were not present a moment ago.

A distinctive blend of airbourne calcium carbonate flavoured with a potpourri of common metal compounds...marble? Somebody drilling marble at this late hour... he searches his memory. Yes, it has the flavour of the stone used in the Bank of Montreal building on West Dewdney Trunk. Nobody has any right to be drilling at that bank tonight. With a sigh, he dumps the remainder of his tea off the ledge, alarming a pair of pigeons. He gets up, straightens his cape, and steps off into nothingness.

A blasted heath somewhere in Newfoundland. A lone man huddles on a rock. He is powerfully built, dressed in dark colours and a leather bomber-jacket. He scans the sky expectantly.

A light appears in the sky. He follows it as it moves in a swift arc, growing larger and brighter. Something is heading this way. It becomes a disc-shaped vehicle. It comes down over the ocean, hovers for several seconds, then starts moving toward land.

The flying saucer slows as it passes over the heath, then starts to descend. Five landing struts appear from the vehicle's belly. The craft is about forty meters across, and bulges in the middle. Running lights are placed irregularly about its circumference. It touches to earth.

The man stands and walks quickly towards the craft. A hatch opens and a ramp appears from inside the ship. Two humanoid figures walk out. Their forms are completely obscured by black and grey space suits. Their heads appear to be solid silver spheres.

The man approaches them.

First Alien
Klaatu barada nikto.

Hans
These ahre not the droids you're looking for.

Second Alien
Hans Dürchfall?

Hans
Ja. You ahre the Field Mage, Rhum Til.

First Alien
I am Rhum Til. This is my pilot Rhum Haba.

Second Alien
You can guarantee that Galactic Customs will not find us here?

Hans
Ja, of course. Provided you released the decoys we ahgreed on. They should be chasing the wild goose in Toronto. Do you hahve the field cell?

Rhum Til produces a box from a pouch on his suit, about the size of a paperback novel.

First Alien
Here it is... I'm not sure I should give it to you.

Hans
You hahve been paid half the ahgreed fee.

First Alien
This is an illegal device, even on civilized worlds. It is dangerous. Do you know what this does? Are you confident you can control the fields it creates?

Hans
Thaht is not my concern. Gaas is the one who must use it.

He pulls a canister from his pocket.

Hans
Six hundred grahms of sahmahrium. Ahs ahgreed.

Rhum Til takes the canister and hands the box to Hans.

First Alien
As your language says, "Es hat gewesen ein Vergnügen - "

Suddenly, the area around them is flooded with intense light. All three turn in surprise.

Amplified Voice
Attention! You are surrounded by Galactic Customs agents! Drop the field cell and move away from your ship.

Second Alien
Curse! Human filth, we are betrayed!!

Hans
No, I -

Amplified Voice
You are charged with five violations of Galactic Treaty T-655, including approaching a developing world, flying in the airspace of a developing world -

Second Alien
Gisas! Tr'pel-cozisa torrep!! [Literal translation: A pox! Eat my gun, parentless aardvark!]

The pilot draws a device from his suit and aims it at the source of the light. It fires bolts of energy. Hans dives for the ground as answering fire strafes the ship. Rhum Til grabs the pilot and drags him back into the ship. Within a half second, the saucer's take-off thrusters roar to life and the ship begins to rise into the air.

The Customs agents' attack grows more intense as they switch to ground-to-air weapons. A glowing outline appears around the ship - they have activated defense shields. The fleeing ship's ion drives glow to life, and with a deafening sonic boom, it vanishes. The agents attack stops.

Two humanoid figures run from the hidden bunker to where the ship was previously. They are wearing some kind of body armor with face-concealing helmets. One of the agents pulls off his helmets - he is a human, with a grizzled face and short blond hair.

Chuck War
Where did the human go?

The other agent removes his helmet. He is a hairless green alien. His aural stalks uncurl from the top of his head.

Alien Agent
Escaped, Chuck War. Perhaps he was killed by our guns, or Rhum Haba's thrusters?

Chuck War
Let's not count on it. Search the area, then erase the evidence of the landing. Call the boys at Area 51, maybe they can still catch them with ground-to-space weapons.

Alien Agent
Of course. A pity we have no interdictors to stop them leaving the system.

Chuck War
Yeah. That's what I keep telling GC brass. Let's go...

They split off to begin the job of cleaning up after a nearly successful sting.

The mandate of the Insurance Corporation of British Columbia is twofold: (a) to be the sole provider of affordable, comprehensive automotive insurance to the people of British Columbia, and (b) to achieve total, supreme global domination.

Doing their part to fulfill part (b) of the mandate, Danny "The Squid" Tipler and his team of break-and-enter experts have locked the Bank of Montreal's security system on standby and then drilled through the west wall with a super-sonic drill.

They climb through the rubble and into the bank. Tipler quickly takes stock of the scene, confirming what he already knew from previous intelligence reports. He gestured to his safecrackers.

Tipler
Number Two, Number Four, get us into the vault. If we're not inside in one minute, use the drill. Numbers Three and Five, do a sweep of the offices on this floor. You have two minutes thirty seconds to find the book. Go.

The technicians go to work. In operations like this, ICBC considers it a liability for the team to know each other's identities.

Their primary goal is a book containing information about the Bank of Montreal's own aborted plan for global domination five years ago. The plan had been a victim of the decision to focus less on nuclear superiority and more on customer service. The book may prove invaluable to ICBC today. And while they were in the Bank, why not pick up several million in cash?

Number Two
Vault's open.

Tipler
All right, let's go in.

Number Four pulls the vault door open and they enter the vault. Fortunately for them, the Bank of Montreal still believes the best way to keep large quantities of cash secure is to leave it lying around in large, easily carried bags with dollar signs on them.

Number Four
There's enough in here to cover all the claims in January!

Tipler
Just take what you can carry in one trip.

Number Two
UUUGH!! Christ, I can't even move this thing!

Tipler
Must be some of those new fifty-dollar coins. All right, cut the bags open and fill your pockets!

A few moments later, they staggered out of the vault, their coverall pockets bulging full of jingling "fiftoonies".

Tipler
Lemme tell you, when ICBC takes over, those morons at the Mint are the first ones floating down the river. [looks around] Where's Three and Five?

Number Three
I'm here boss.

Tipler
Did you get the book? Where's Five?

Number Three
Dunno. We split up. The book's right here. It was in some vice-president's desk.

He holds up a standard Bank of Montreal binder, with "The New World Order" written on the spine in blue letters.

Tipler
All right, we're out of here. Five's on his own.

Hydrogen Guy
Actually, he's right here.

The bank-crackers turn in surprise. Behind them is Hydrogen Guy, dragging the unconscious Number Five by the legs.

Hydrogen Guy
I took the trouble to let myself in through an air vent. Found this guy in the coffee room. You wouldn't believe what he was doing in the coffee pot...

Tipler pulls a gun from his belt and fires at Hydrogen Guy. In the blink of an eye, Hydrogen Guy is two feet to the left.

Hydrogen Guy
Chemistry lesson one: the hydrogen atom is the lightest, hence the most mobile, of all atoms.

Tipler shoots again. Hydrogen Guy vanishes completely! The bank-crackers look around, startled. Tipler hears a voice behind him.

Hydrogen Guy
Chemistry lesson two: hydrogen is an invisible, colourless, and odourless gas.

He high-kicks Tipler's wrist, knocking the gun out of his hand. Tipler turn and lunges for him, but Hydrogen Guy again dodges inhumanly fast.

Tipler
Get him!

The others draw their guns, but immediately drop them, howling painfully.

Hydrogen Guy
Chemistry lesson three: Nitric acid is HNO₃, and if you know how to break the right chemical bonds, you can make it from oxygen, nitrogen, and water vapour, all of which live in the atmosphere. And nitric acid likes metals.

The now furious bank-crackers physically rush him. Weighed down by their pockets full of coins, Hydrogen Guy easily dodges them. In a flurry of knees and elbows, he knocks down Numbers Two and Four. The others attack again, but in a split second he's on the other side of the room.

Tipler
You're PISSING ME OFF, punk!!

Hydrogen Guy
That's the general idea.

Tipler
Who the hell are you supposed to be anyway?

Hydrogen Guy
Hydrogen Guy. And behind you is Deuterium Boy.

Tipler and Number Three crumple to the ground. Behind them, Deuterium Boy holds a pair of his patented Deuterium-O-Rangs^(TM) - bladed throwing implements in the shape of the letter "D", with a blunt end also suitable for clubbing your opponents on the back of the noggin.

Deuterium Boy is slightly taller than Hydrogen Guy, with a slightly darker complexion. His hair is long and brown, is tied back in a ponytail, and he has a goatee beard and moustache. His tights and cape (which only reaches to just above his butt) are a bright lime green. The boxer shorts over the tights and his boots are a satiny red, and his shirt is a bright yellow. He wears a red crest on the left side of his chest with the letters "DB" in black. A simple green mask covers his eyes. He tucks the two Deuterium-O-Rangs into a compartment on his belt.

Hydrogen Guy
Bravo, Deuterium Boy. Excellent timing. I suggest we write this script down and use it for all our bank jobs in the future.

Deuterium Boy
Kudos to you as well, Hydrogen Guy. I liked the whole "Chemistry lesson" routine.

Hydrogen Guy
[shrugs modestly] I just thought of it, really.

Tipler
Uhhh...

Hydrogen Guy
Hup! Seems you didn't hit someone hard enough.

Deuterium Boy
Yeah, that was my left hand.

Hydrogen Guy
Well, let's finish the job...

They pull an exotic-looking pair of colour-coordinated pistols out of their belts. Tipler opens his eyes, which go wide in horror.

Tipler
Whoa! Whoa! Wait, no, don't shoot! I'm defenseless!!

Hydrogen Guy
Relax, you won't feel a thing. No sudden moves, now!

Tipler opens his eyes again and is delighted to find he's alive. He's less delighted to find his clothes have been firmly stapled to the floor with large diamond-tipped staples.

Tipler
HEY!!!

Hydrogen Guy
Oh, shut up. The cops will find you in a little while. DB, would you get Mr. Coffee over there for me?

Deuterium Boy
No problem.

They holster their staple guns, and with a cheerful wave to the furious Tipler, step through the hole in the west wall.

As they walk down the street, Hydrogen Guy thumbs through the Bank of Montreal's "New World Order" binder, which he confiscated on the way out.

Deuterium Boy
Interesting reading?

Hydrogen Guy
Not really. Listen to this - "Step Seven. Hijack nuclear warheads in destabilized Russia and hold the world hostage." Really. Think of something new, for Feynman's sake. Speaking of coffee, fancy stopping for a gourmet hot beverage?

Deuterium Boy
[glancing at his watch] We should turn in soon. Remember, Bolus wants to show us that new quantum wave resonance spectroscopy set-up at the Institute at nine tomorrow morning.

Hydrogen Guy
Of course. I was having so much fun I almost forgot I'm a world-renowned theoretical physicist. Just as well, I'm running low on staples.

He stops in front of a Starbucks.

Hydrogen Guy
We'll get them "to go".

The Maple Ridge Institute of High Energy Physics, one of the most renowned institutes in the world, is located several kilometers north of Maple Ridge, built atop a rocky bluff surrounded mostly by pine trees. The facility includes a small particle accelerator, petaflops worth of computing power, and extensive network of laboratories, and an impressive roster in the Theory Group. The Institute's latest achievement is the development of a new form of sub-atomic spectroscopy, which today will be demonstrated to interested members of the staff.

Jim Evans, world-renowned theoretical physicist, and his frequent collaborator, nuclear chemist David Marcolin, are the first to arrive in the laboratory of experimentalist Dr. Ken Bolus. Evans and Marcolin are both looking a wee bit bleary-eyed this morning.

Marcolin
Oh, stuff it.

Evans
Now, now. The narrator's here to help. Ah! Bolus!

They find Dr. Bolus peering somewhat worriedly over his machine. A radio is playing behind him.

Radio
... Toronto police are today denying reports of super-hero activity over the city late last night. League of Heroes spokesman Chuck War said... *click*

Bolus
Ah, Evans! David, good to see you. You're early.

Evans
Not too early I hope.

Marcolin
Ken, you look perturbed.

Bolus turns back to the machine. He points to a pair of spikes on the computer graphic.

Bolus
I've been looking at the silicon sample I was going to demonstrate on for the group today. The QWR spectrometer is giving me some very odd results. According to this, the Si-28 atoms are decaying.

Marcolin peers at the screen.

Marcolin
I've never seen a decay mode like that before.

Evans
But silicon 28 is a stable isotope. It shouldn't decay.

Bolus gives him an irritated glance.

Bolus
Well if the theorist says so, it must be so. But apparently my machine disagrees.

Evans
It is a new method, might there still...

Bolus
Bullshit. There's nothing wrong with the spectrometer. If it was capable of making an error like this, I would've seen it in one of the hundreds of other silicon samples I've looked at.

Evans
No offense meant, Dr. Bolus.

Marcolin
Jim, how would you interpret this?

He peers at the screen.

Evans
It almost looks... as if the atom's turned into some kind of degenerate bosonic matter. But that's impossible.

Bolus
That was my interpretation too. I don't see what else it could be.

Marcolin
What do you mean by "degenerate bosonic matter"?

Evans
[pause] You know the difference between fermions and bosons.

Marcolin
Of course. Fermions have half-interger spins and bosons have integer spins.

Evans
Right. And fermions obey Pauli's exclusion principle while bosons don't. The Pauli exclusion principle says that in a system of fermions - like electrons, protons and neutrons - no two fermions can be in the same quantum state. If that wasn't true, atoms would collapse.

Marcolin
You think that's what's happened here?

Evans
It looks like it. Apparently the electrons in these silicon atoms decided they didn't feel like obeying the exclusion principle anymore, and the atoms collapsed. Hm. Fascinating.

Bolus
Fascinating? It's disastrous! Electrons can't violate the exclusion principle! It's one of the most important rules in quantum mechanics! This can't be happening! The data has to be wrong! My God, I think I'm having a nervous breakdown...

Marcolin
Ken, BREATHE!

Evans
I have a bad feeling about this. Bolus, maybe you should call off the demo for now. I'm sure the others in our group would find this fascinating, but I think it's best not to alarm anybody.

Bolus
What?

Evans
Don't worry, I don't think our most cherished theories of modern physics are wrong. Keep working on this. Check every sample you have, Check your office supplies. Everything. Call us if there's any developments. You have Dave's cell number, I think...

He pats Bolus on the shoulder and rushes off. Marcolin follows after him.

Bolus
On the bright side, maybe I'll get a Nobel Prize. Or maybe they'll burn me at the stake for blasphemy.. can they still do that? God, I need a smoke...

Meanwhile, out in the hall...

Marcolin
Jim, what's up? Or should I call you HG?

Evans
I suspect Foul Play. A Conspiracy.

Marcolin
A conspiracy of misbehaving silicon atoms?

Evans
Something just seems not right. Unnatural. Let's go... to the Hydrogen Cave!

The Fiendish Fermion Fandangle!!
Same Hydrogen time... Same Hydrogen website!