three physical dimensions. He avoided calling space-time a dimension; rather, he thought it was merely a human construct to explain the interaction of time with the three obvious dimensions. He was an overt agnostic for multiple dimensions. “One says there are six dimensions; the other says there are ten, but we can’t see the other three or seven because they are rolled up somewhere in a little microscopic ball and last only for a billionth of a second. Sorry, but I am not impressed.”
Rankin spent a good part of his later years writing a four volume work entitled simply, A Memoir, now in its 106th printing.
Volumes I and II, were devoted to integrity. Rankin was a great, great man, but he wasn’t perfect. He tried to admit when he was wrong, and worked hard to overcome his weaknesses. But he never, ever…ever let anyone question his honesty. Never! Although some disagreed with him, any attempt to question his integrity invariably worked to the detriment of the accuser.
Rankin was one of those rare scientists whose abilities transcended his discipline. He attributed this to two things. First was judgment. He discussed the difference between intelligence (sheer mental brain power), and judgment, the ability to weigh variables and draw the best conclusion. Almost four hundred and forty years after his death, even when viewed through that marvelous judgment-enhancing instrument of hindsight, all of Rankin’s major decisions were correct.
The second was willpower. Rankin described this as an inner strength, a self confidence. A leader’s willpower generates hope and credibility; it allows the common man to dream and to hope.
Rankin cultivated what he called the “mien of leadership.” It was his intention to show everyone that he was somehow a cut above, that he had inner control and discipline. How could anyone be entrusted to make the difficult decisions at the time of greatest need if they could not control their own emotions?
Some found Rankin cold and aloof. The latter was a misinterpretation, the former was not correct. He was uniformly pleasant and courteous. Until the day of his death he always addressed his physicians as “Doctor,” never by first name. The most famous picture of his later years shows Rankin waiting his turn in line to buy a ticket for an interplanetary transport. He thought he had made a reservation but it was for the wrong day. Rankin was told they would find a place for him, but when he found out this would cause another passenger with a confirmed reservation to be bumped, he adamantly refused.
A contemporary once said that Rankin had “the gift of silence.” Rankin considered this a compliment. He never tried to be glib and never told jokes. He wanted people’s respect, not laughter.
In A Memoir, Rankin discussed how a leader should choose their assistants, and how to groom the next generation of leaders. Some clearly accomplished great things, but because of their own insecurity surround themselves with weak people, or even worse, sycophants. Rankin said they “pulled up the drawbridge behind them.” He felt that a basic obligation of a great leader was to train the generation that would follow in their footsteps.
Rankin understood that his amazing intellect did not make him smart at everything. He always sought out the assistance of other smart, honest people, especially ones who were willing to voice their own opinion. He may not agree with them, but he did try to understand their point of view.
Rankin looked for young people who were still hungry, not old fogies (like his first grade teacher) who were satiated by their past accomplishments or who had risen to the top by never rocking the boat. Not surprisingly, many older individuals who thought it was their turn, but were passed over for advancement by Rankin, were bitter. Considering that all of Rankin’s major appointments were successful, he made it clear in A Memoir that he did not owe the complainers an apology or an explanation.
Rankin’s aide de camp was Howlin Schnowzrr. Schnowzrr was thirty-two when she joined Rankin, when implementation of his plans to build the Cube began in earnest. She controlled access to him and had his complete confidence. More than once she saved him from embarrassment, much like Harry Truman’s secretary just filing his irate letters rather than sending them.
Zolt Phaebuhr joined Rankin six years after construction began on the Cube. Rankin’s accomplishments were so profound, with such a pervasive affect on society, that there was no doubt he would become the head of government upon completion of the Cube. Rankin needed an intellectual basis for his proposals to reorganize the government and someone with the political savvy to bring the ideas to fruition.
The forty-year-old was a perfect choice. He was erudite, shrewd, and had an ability to sense the political wind finer and more acutely than a rooster’s ability to sense the sunrise, or Henry Aaron’s ability to slam a rookie’s hanging curve ball into the left field bleachers.
Rankin’s financial advisor was the thirty-five year old Bingum Preyes. He always thought she was the smartest person he ever met. Preyes is still considered one of Oria’s greatest financial geniuses, the J. P. Morgan of her time. The Septadians consider her treatise, The Investment of Capital for Public Projects, to be one of the ten greatest economic works of the galaxy.
One of Preyes’ greatest strengths was also her greatest weakness. She told people exactly what she thought. She was beyond blunt; she was utterly tactless and had already infuriated several important business and political leaders before she was discovered by Rankin.
An illustrative example of her over-the-top in-your-face candor was at the last position she held before joining Rankin. The bank was considering a loan on a construction project, and she was asked to make recommendations. In an elegant report she outlined her reservations and predicted it would fail. The president of the bank overruled her and the loan was made. Six months later things were going badly and the president recommended a second loan to bail them out. Preyes again predicted the project would fail and finished her report with the comment, “...and if you had just listened to me the in the first place we wouldn’t be in this mess.” She was absolutely correct and instantly unemployed. The project did fail, and the bank president was ultimately canned.
But with Rankin, and later Phaebuhr, to provide a steady hand of guidance and political cover, her brilliance shone through. Preyes, more than anyone else, was responsible for the financial success of the Rankin Cube, and Rankin never failed to give her full credit for her achievements.
Rankin’s one regret about A Memoir, the last volume published just months before his death, was a single line; quoted by his supporters and misquoted by his opponents. It was one of those things that allow the naysayers, the constant criticizers, those who have never really done anything on their own, a chance to chip away at the accomplishments of the great ones:
“Nobody gives you real power—You have to take it.”
A dispassionate observer of Rankin’s life can draw only one conclusion: a single person can have a profound effect upon history.
Chapter Five
The Experiment
With the virtual photon, Rankin was able to unlock the secrets of the black hole. He proposed that a structure be built to surround the black hole-star (Mhairi) binary to harvest the energy from the accretion disk, the swirl around the black hole, and beam it back to Oria—just as the turbine of a great dam uses the eternally reliable force of gravity to generate electricity from the water cascading down over its rotor blades. Since a sphere is the most perfect shape in nature, the one assumed by a raindrop, initial planning was to make the structure round. Surprisingly, it was quickly determined by computer simulations that a Cube would be superior for these purposes.
The Cube would replace all other energy sources on Oria. It was not like a solid box totally encasing the black hole, instead, there would be material only at the margins, with additional reinforcement at the corners for structural support. The remainder of the area, the sides and the interior, would be open to space. The star-black hole binary would reside at the center of the Cube, and all matter—solid, liquid, gas, or electromagnetic radiation—everything—could pass in either direction between the margins of the Cube.
To build such a structure would be an undertaking of completely outrageous, bonkers, previously-unimaginable