Sonia Fernandez- Vidal [QUANTIC LOVE]

Transcription

1 Gravitation is not responsible for people falling in love. ALBERT EINSTEIN Without science, love is powerless; without love, science is destructive. BERTRAND RUSSELL

2 1. THE GATES TO SHAMBHALA Every once in a while, the future whispers a fleeting message into your ear. Some people call it a premonition, others intuition but all I can say is that, when I boarded the plane, I knew that everything was going to change. The Laila who was leaving Seville for Switzerland would never return. My work permit as a waitress at the CERN lab was just a temporary one, but suddenly, I understood that this summer was going to change my life in a big way. Nervously I made my way through the people shoving their hand baggage into the lockers. Seat 17A, by the window. I d have an amazing view over the Alps! After sitting down, I pushed my bag between my feet and took out the notebook my dad had given me for the trip. It was a Moleskine, black, and held shut by an elastic band. With a thrill of excitement I opened it to the first page. On it was a quote by Peter Matthiessen, which perfectly illustrated the hunch I d just had: One man goes off on a journey and it is another who returns. I had to admit my dad always hit the mark with his presents. The words of the writer of The Snow Leopard - his favourite travel novel - echoed even louder inside me now that I was heading off on my own personal odyssey.

3 While the flight attendant gave her safety instructions to the total indifference of her audience, I heard my dad s calm, gentle voice inside me: Keep your eyes open, Laila. You re about to have a unique experience in the most important research lab in Europe. Put your hands to work at the canteen - but keep your eyes fixed on the horizon. I m only going for three months, Dad... I d protested. Then I d given him a warm hug. I knew exactly what was coming next. He d been telling me the same Eastern tale since my fourteenth birthday. And that was four years ago... Remember the story of the hunter who came to Shambhala, the Tibetan paradise, while he was chasing a deer? The gates swung open as he arrived, and when the gatekeeper saw this he invited the man in; but the hunter wished to go back for his family. And when he got back, the gate to the mountain had closed. The gates to Shambhala only open once in a lifetime to each of us. Every opportunity is unique, Laila - and if you don t make the most of it, you ll be like the hunter, who had to carry on catching deer for the rest of his life. My father was an incorrigible dreamer. Perhaps because of it, he d married the most practical, down-to-earth person in the world: my mom. What she said to me was like a bucket of cold water poured over my head: Make sure you do a good job; don t spend much; and forget about any boys while you re there. Remember, you ll be back in three months to start university. I don t want you filling your head with nonsense. It doesn t matter how many Nobel prizewinners are strolling around there just don t forget that you re the coffee girl, not Albert Einstein. As we landed in Geneva, I suddenly felt afraid for the first time since I d embarked on my adventure. All my friends were on holiday, while I was heading for an unfamiliar place to do a job I had absolutely no idea about. I d lied in my CV, saying I d worked as a waitress for the last two summers in a campsite on the Costa Brava of Spain. Suddenly, all I wanted was to get back on the plane and return to my sunny city, to the world I knew, where everything was boring and predictable, but safe.

4 Breathe deep, I thought to myself, feeling my legs shake as I went through Customs. Stop acting like a scared little girl. That gave me the courage I needed to resist the panic attack that was welling inside me. I got through, staring hard at the ground, then followed the signs to collect my baggage. Near the conveyor belt was a huge poster showing a satellite image of the place where I d be spending my whole summer. I couldn t help but smile it seemed to be a welcome especially for me. In the centre of the birds-eye view were the words, CERN: WHERE THE WORLD WIDE WEB WAS BORN. The week before catching my plane, I d googled all I could find about the lab. I found out that CERN 1 was the acronym for the European Council for Nuclear Research, the nuclear physics laboratory where the largest particle accelerator in the world was built. Apparently, the giant machine was going to give us an understanding of the origin of the Universe. Wow! I picked up my suitcase and took the exit for the bus stop, where a group of young backpackers were gathered. They looked like they d be going hiking in the Alps. Next to me was an old man wearing a brown corduroy jacket and a finelyknit dark sweater. He looked at me through his glasses, which had an oldfashioned frame. His eyes were small but twinkled with humour. Timidly, I returned his smile. He looked a bit like a retired caretaker. When the bus to the CERN arrived, I got in and sat down near the driver. The man sat down beside me. Hello, young lady, he said in perfect English. You don t look like you re from around here. I was so jittery I didn t really feel like talking. But the old man had such a friendly manner that I didn t want to be rude. I greeted him back in English and added, I m from Seville. 1 From the French, Conseil Européen pour la Recherche Nucléaire, now European Laboratory for Nuclear Research.

5 Lovely city... I adore flamenco, and tapas too. So, what brings you to Switzerland? I m spending my summer working at the CERN the physics lab outside Geneva. Yes, I know it, he smiled. I thought that would be the end of the conversation, and tried to put him off by turning my head distractedly towards the window; but the elderly man wouldn t be silenced. You look a bit young to be doing research or are you some kind of genius, perhaps? No, I m not... I ll just be working as a waitress there for the three summer months. I felt sad as I spoke the last sentence. A lump came to my throat once again as I thought of the three months ahead of me. At school I d had the best grades in my class. People did think I was some kind of genius there. All my teachers assured me I d be a brilliant university student. But here I was, about to enter the place with the greatest number of geeks per square metre in the world, and all I d be doing there was pour them their coffees. The idea of it made me feel hugely insignificant. I realized again how lonely I was going to feel over these interminable weeks. I bit my lip and swallowed hard to ward off the horrible feeling that I was about to burst into tears. A strange place to be going if you re just wanting to earn some money... Nosey old man. I sighed in annoyance, though my irritation helped to keep the tears back. Thankful if only for that, I went along with him. I found a European jobsite offering this job for students. I want to go to university next year and I m not sure what to choose, Maths or Physics. A couple of months away from home should help me make up my mind. I didn t think it was necessary to tell the man that my parents had just had to close their small bookshop. The current economic crisis had managed to crush the dream they d cherished way back before I was even born. My dad was searching for a job, any kind of job, and my mom had started mending our neighbours clothes - but what she earned from it wouldn t be enough to pay for a university degree.

6 That seems like a very wise decision, my girl. By the way I m behaving like a rude old man. I haven t even introduced myself. My name s Murray. I m Laila. A beautiful name, young genius. It s Arabic, I explained. It means Night Beauty. So apart from being a lovely name, it suits you very well. By the way, if you re staying at the CERN you ll have to get off at the next stop. Let me give you my phone number, though, and if you ever need anything, please call me. He took out a fountain pen and scribbled a number on it, then folded it and gave it to me. I was about to sincerely thank him for it when the bus reached my stop. I leapt off and pulled my suitcase out of the hold. Before I put the scrap of paper the old man had given me in my pocket I saw a remarkable sentence printed on the back of it. The illiterate of the 21st century will not be those who cannot read and write, but those who cannot learn, unlearn, and relearn. ALVIN TOFFLER I slipped the note into my Moleskine. I d decided to make the notebook my chest of small treasures. I didn t yet know exactly how many of them I would be gathering during the months of the unforgettable summer to come.