Chapter 12

When the Marshalls met with Principal Jessup, Stuart told me afterward that they had insisted that a school board member and the school’s solicitor be present at the meeting. He told me how Gerry went on the attack before the principal even finished greeting them.

“Gerry asked Jessup,” Stuart said to me, “how he dared to ignore the State Department letter about Program participation. Jessup said he hadn’t been aware of that letter until Sam had mentioned it on the school’s stage. So Gerry showed him a copy; it clearly stated that U.K. national students were not to be selected to participate in the Program. The letter was dated in August and with it there was a postal receipt from Sam’s school showing it had been delivered. Jessup told us that he had asked the Program person about why she ignored the State Department letter.

“Apparently the Office of Social Awareness thinks that they can ignore international agreements, because from what Jessup said that he was told by the school’s Program representative, the U.S. State Department has no authority over the Program. So that’s one issue that Dad’s going to have to clear up, and right damned quickly too. But I needed to set these gits straight.

“So I asked Jessup to consider what would happen when the monarch of the United Kingdom demanded that the U.S. ambassador attend her and she delivered an official objection to the United States government concerning the government’s treatment of her citizens. Our embassy here could easily make that happen, I told him. That’s when I took on my Royal Marine persona and gave him a recruit’s tongue-lashing: ‘Since you are the official in charge of this school and not the Program person whom the feds assigned to the school, you are the official responsible for ignoring the Program exemption for a British diplomat’s child—not that Program woman. As well, you must realize that all of your school district officials would be held accountable, just as you would be. Do you think that your president would ignore a continuing international incident that YOU precipitated, Mr Jessup? Do you think that the president would be somewhat cross with your governor? Do you seriously believe that the federal Program office will overrule the president?’ Then I asked their solicitor to tell Jessup what would likely happen next, after the president finished admonishing the miscreants in his administration.

“She told Jessup that if such a thing happened, that he would at best be sacked and at worst, never find a position in education anywhere in the country.

“Then Jessup deflated, but told us that this meeting was about Sam’s disrupting order in the school, not about any federal requests being ignored. He mentioned how rude she was in speaking to him, threatening to scratch and kick him. He also said that Sam had been inciting the other kids and that was why he couldn’t allow her to remain in the school.

“I first responded to his complaint about her being rude, ‘Someone tells you that they plan to assault and sexually batter you. Do you stand there and smile and tell them to go right ahead? Or do you tell them what their consequences would be? Sam wasn’t being rude; she was giving you a fair warning of how she’d respond to your threat. And how was she inciting the other pupils, then?’ I asked. ‘She’s telling them not to cooperate,’ he answered. I disagreed and told him, ‘I heard from several other sources that what she told the pupils was that she herself was refusing and that others had the right to refuse, just as she had. She’s not telling them what they should do. Is there any school rule which states that pupils can’t exchange truthful information? Because that’s all she’s done.’

“And I ended with a warning to them. I mentioned that I knew all about the Program enforcers and how they were employed, and warned their school board person and their solicitor that if either of my children were removed from school by any Program official, it would be handled as a kidnapping of a diplomatic official’s dependent. That meant that the FBI and U.S. Marshals’ office would descend on the school and arrest everyone involved—the Program official, the entire school board, plus the school’s administrators, would be charged with kidnapping, a class one felony, and I was certain that they wouldn’t want that to happen. That shook them up, I do say.

“The atmosphere in the room was a bit tense, but I did get Jessup to back off from the idea of expelling Sam, especially after I told him how much legal force we could muster against the school district. I asked them if they wanted to take on the legal resources of the British government.”

“So where does this leave Sam now?” I asked.

Stuart answered, “Where she was before, but now the kids think she’s a hero for resisting the way she did. The school district’s solicitor also admitted to us that Sam was correct; if a staff member tried to forcibly strip a student, it would be a felony, and she had informed Jessup of that fact after Sam’s assembly when he had contacted her for advice. So all the pupils in her school now know that they can’t be forced to be in the Program, thanks to Sam. I’m impressed at how strongly she stood up to the school officials.”

“Sam’s a courageous girl,” I agreed. “Andrew told me she’s now known as that ‘clothed Program girl.’ Everyone in the school knows her and saw what she did on the school’s stage. She’s been having loads of fun with the idea of a textile Program too, using it to ridicule the whole idea of the Program. She did some wild things, too, until the teachers twigged to her game.”

Stuart laughed. “I won’t ask.”

“I’ll tell, though. In one class, the teacher wanted her starkers for some kind of anatomy demo. She got up and said, ‘It’s fine; I’m wearing my Program outfit now. So demo me, then.’ The class laughed. The teacher said, ‘I can’t show anything with your clothes on.’ So that little imp looked around the room, saw an anatomical model at the back, and went to pick it up. She brought it to him. ‘Here’s your demo. I’ll hold it while you do the demo. I’m totally cooperating, you see.’ The class thought that was brilliant but the teacher was quite cross with her, she told me. He sent her back to her seat.

“Sam feels very strongly about how wrong the Program is. She could have simply taken her exemption and kept quiet. But she told me, when she heard my story of how kids in my school resisted the Program and knew that her own school would be starting it this autumn, that being starkers wouldn’t particularly bother her but she would not abide being forced into it. And that she’d try to make sure everyone knew that.”

I spent much of the last two weeks of September getting organized at the APL and by early October, I was commuting there daily. Obviously I don’t have a driver’s license—even being emancipated, I still was not eligible for age-related privileges like driving or voting. I considered the various alternatives and then settled on hiring an executive car service. Using them, I could ride in comfort in a limo with a little desk and get some work done. And there was lots of work—not only my research, but I needed to review the work of the UAF engineering team, look over the various patent licensing proposals I was having prepared, and sort through all of the seminar requests I was still receiving.

At my first day at the APL, I had gotten a very warm greeting. And I was impressed by the “space” that they had organized for me—a lovely office and a nearby lab. Both were small but then, so am I, and I wasn’t really sure what I could use the lab for right now; the lab work I had needed to do up to now was actually engineering work and not applied physics. But my new colleagues (that sounds so brill) assured me that I’d come up with something. They did have facilities for doing semiconductor work here, but the equipment was currently fully committed. I wondered if I could raid my old uni, UAF, for people ... Well, first I’d need to see if that could be done ethically.

I did have plenty of ideas where I could use my approach to solid-state physics, perhaps investigating quantum communication using the Josephson effect—this area of research has been around maybe 20 years or so, but I have a few ideas that go in a slightly different direction and it was one of the areas of expertise at the APL. Another Josephson application, one that had occurred to me when I first got the superconductivity idea, involved Andreev reflections and electron scattering. This could be useful in studying superconducting mesoscopic systems; this is the scale of the electronics used in integrated circuit chips. Yeah, I had lots of theoretical work to keep me busy; no need for a lab just yet.

And I really do need to see if I can get to teach a basic physics class at the main campus. Yes. Plenty of work.

It was a Monday in early October. I had spent the day at the lab working on several ideas which were all converging. As my colleagues had predicted, I had gotten an idea which would require some engineering work, so I needed some money for equipment and a technician or two—perhaps a grad student or postdoc. So I had begun to sketch out a quick research grant proposal. I also contacted some physics grad students I had worked with at UAF to learn about their post-graduation plans, and as a fall-back plan, sent an email to my trustee to learn if any royalty or licensing income could be made available as seed money for this idea. I was busy with this preliminary planning all that Monday and Tuesday, so when I got home that evening, I was fairly knackered.

Then after dinner that evening, Gerry wanted to discuss her family’s plans for the next few years with me to see how they would fit with my own plans. The Marshalls have been planning to remain in the U.S. after Stuart retires from the Marines. Gerry has a master’s degree in adolescent education from a British university and was taking a few classes here in the States to allow her to become licensed to teach here. Stuart holds a doctorate in political science from the London Economics Institute (wow, that’s ace. Who knew?) and has a few open offers to teach at several area universities too, and they liked the educational opportunities their kids had here better than in the U.K. I thought with my work at the APL, I could be well served by remaining in the area too, and of course I wanted to be close to Andrew. Gerry and I were discussing my ongoing work with the kids and I told her how Abi was starting to take her work seriously now. I pulled out my mobile to show her some current work that Abi was doing and how clever the girl was; I was determined to get the kid to be serious at her schoolwork. I was ready for bed; the last two days had been busy for me, especially in the lab, so I went to my room to get some sleep.

Too early in the morning, I heard the distinctive ring of my mobile. I fumbled around. Oops, I had left it on the kitchen table upstairs. I looked at the clock. 5:30 frikkin’ a.m. Jeez, who calls at that hour? ... Uh oh, hope it isn’t about Uncle Scott...

Stuart called from upstairs. “Emma? Your mobile...”

“Please get it and answer!”

Damn, I hope it’s not the hospital.

I ran up the stairs and heard Stuart talking on it as I came into the kitchen.

“ ... what? A very important call? Who is this?” he said.

“...”

“You’re calling from Stockholm? Sweden?” Stuart repeated.

Ohmygod, it can’t be. It can’t. There’s no way. Impossible. I grabbed the mobile from him.

“Hello? This is Emma Clarke ... erm...”

“Dr Emma Clarke? This is she, correct?” A male voice. Fairly heavy accent.

“Yes sir, and...”

“Dr Clarke, this is Lars Hagenstir, secretary of the Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences. It’s my pleasure and honor to notify you that you have been selected as this year’s Nobel Laureate in Physics.”

My head was spinning. Is this a hoax? He had the right kind of accent...

“Dr Clarke?” He was chuckling. “Are you there?”

“Yes. I’m totally stunned.”

“Indeed, I tend to get that kind of reaction. I’m delighted to be the first to offer you my sincere congratulations, Dr Clarke.”

“Erm ... is there someone else ... a shared prize?”

“The Academy voted for you alone, Doctor. Now, the public announcement will be made at noon here in Stockholm, in about a half hour. Be prepared for the press to descend on you soon after. Staff from the Academy will be in touch with you within a week; the awards ceremony is here in Stockholm on the 10^th of December. Good bye, and fare well.”

I sat down in shock. How could it happen to me? Only older people get it. How could that happen so fast? I couldn’t recall any other case of a Nobel being awarded so quickly ... well no, there was. I recall that in the late 1980s there was a physics Nobel, also for high-temperature superconductivity work, and I think that it was also given something like two years after the work was done. My work is fundamentally different to theirs, and we were able to make a working prototype circuit very quickly. Maybe that’s why this was decided so quickly as well. Still, this is lightning fast...

I realized that Stuart was squatting at my side, trying to get my attention.

“Emma? Emma ... are you okay? What was that call? Is everything all right?”

I shook myself ... then broke into tears. “I won ... the bloody Nobel ... am I dreaming? I can’t believe it...”

“What! Stockholm. Early morning call! Of course. They announced the Medicine Prize yesterday. Emma! My God! Hey, Gerry!” he shouted. “Brilliant news! Wake up!”

Gerry came running down and the kids came trundling after her, rubbing their eyes.

There was a cacophony of questions about what had happened. I was still too shocked to speak so I nodded to Stuart.

He put an arm around me, now stood next to my chair. “You heard the mobile ring?”

They nodded. Abi didn’t; she’d sleep through an earthquake.

“Emma just got a call that she’s won the Nobel Prize in Physics. That call came from Stockholm.”

Now I wasn’t the only one in shock. But soon everyone recovered and I was showered with praise and congratulations. Of course we had to ring up Uncle George ... heh. Wake him up early too. He was overjoyed with the news. We turned on the TV and at 6 a.m., the news program had the announcement—so did the radio—and the commentators promised interviews when I could be contacted.

Blimey, interviews. Then I realized that the press really didn’t know where I was. They possibly could track me through the embassy or UAF, but not for many hours yet. They could try contacting my coauthors but finding their numbers would take time. I decided that if my mobile rang with an unknown number, I’d let it go to voice mail. Friggin’ interviews. Maybe I could get advice from my APL colleagues—even hide out there till I was ready to face the press. I was beginning to yearn for my prior anonymity.

We had a mini-celebration until everyone needed to leave. Stuart was gonna be late; he had gotten up early for a breakfast meeting but he rang up the others to explain. They were very understanding.

My driver picked me up at the regular time and I spent time in thought on the way to the lab. And when I walked into the building, that’s when the real pandemonium broke out! It was such a whirlwind that I can’t recall very much detail. Everyone was so happy for me and so complimentary. I also learnt that three physics faculty members at JHU, who had stellar international reps, had been contacted by the Nobel Committee over the summer for their input on my work and they had been very supportive—they had attended my seminars. And JHU had four physics prize winners in the past and several of the uni’s current faculty members were Nobel laureates too. Who knew? That many in one uni? Glad I decided to sign up here, then.

Dr Wilson stopped by the lab and he put me in touch with two of the current laureates and they told me how they had handled the press when their prize had been publicly announced. That was good information to have.

Someone mentioned that the news reports were talking about how I couldn’t be located; no one knew where I lived and my old address in Alaska wasn’t valid. I had texted Mrs F about my getting the prize but I hadn’t thought to warn her about reporters so she was confused by all the media people coming to her door so early in the morning. Fortunately she put off requests for my contact info, claiming her ignorance. I had also texted my group at UAF and had begun getting congratulatory calls from them just before 1 p.m. They told me that the press was coming there too, trying to locate me, but they wanted my permission to release my contact info. So I told them to wait. I’d see how long I could stay hidden. My colleagues thought it was amusing.

I wasn’t about to get any work done today, though, and then got an idea, so I rang up Uncle George. He wasn’t available, but Anston was, and was agreeable to act as my press manager for now. He had heard about the Nobel and was, well, you know, very congratulatory—I’ll skip repeating this now for each person I met. So at about 1:30, I was back in my car service limo, headed for the embassy. About five minutes later, I got a ring from the APL director; some press people had stopped by there on the chance that someone there might know how to contact me. He was noncommittal about my whereabouts; he was also helping me play the “where’s Emma?” game. (Heh heh. There’s a Sesame Street book named “Where’s Elmo?” I had a copy when I was younger. I also had a copy of “Where’s Wally?” It’s a Brit book and I loved it. I saw copies in a bookstore in the mall recently but you Yanks changed its title to “Where’s Waldo?” Why do you blokes have to change everything? Come on, I mean, a book title? Need I mention for proof, a certain title change from “Philosopher’s Stone” to “Sorcerer’s Stone”? Go look it up. Q.E.D.)

At the embassy, I met with Anston and we worked up a press release and I made some notes for my opening statement (the other laureates’ advice: keep it really brief; let them ask the questions); then he rang up a few contacts and got a press conference arranged for 6 p.m. that evening. Uncle George dropped into Anston’s office and greeted me with, well, you know. And a big hug.

The beginning of the press conference was almost a repeat of the first one. Anston emceed and Uncle George gave a brief introduction. My comments were a bit more than brief. Once I start talking, I tend to keep going. After greeting the standing-room-only crowd, I noticed several writers who had been at my news conference back in June, so I welcomed them by name and that caused a minor sensation all on its own. Then I addressed two questions which certainly would come up, my age and the speed of receiving the award.

“You can tell I’m quite unlike the typical Nobel laureate,” I said, pausing for effect. “I’m shorter than any of them ... well, for the last hundred years...”

They had been expecting anything but that. After a second’s silence, the place erupted with laughter.

“ ... yes, Marie Curie was only five feet tall. She won her second prize in 1911; that’s over a hundred years ago. I’ve got her beat by a whole inch and a half.”

More laughter.

“Hey, don’t laugh! Those half inches count too.” I continued over the audience’s laughter. “A little more seriously, yes, I’m terribly young to have been recognized with this honor—for those who might not know, I’m fourteen now...” There were some gasps. “ ... so that’s an atypical Nobel statistic too. All I can say about how I made my discovery at my tender age is that I understood advanced maths innately when I was younger and found that I could easily apply my maths knowledge to learn about the physical systems I got interested in. And all physical systems follow the rules of mathematics.

“And if anyone asks how I got it so quickly, I guess the Academy likes superconductivity, ‘cause there were awards in 1972, 1987, 2003, and 2016 that were all related to this research area. And the 1987 award, to Bednorz and Müller, came about two years after their own discovery. Mine was about two years as well. Perhaps the Academy awarded it because I produced a working physical device immediately after I did the theoretical work. I got incredibly lucky with coming up with a working device and really owe all that success to my excellent research team at the University of Alaska, Fairbanks. Okay, Anston, questions?”

There was applause and then the questions came. The most interesting ones were these:

Question: “Every Nobel winner gets this question. What were you doing when you heard you had won it?”

Answer: “Easy. Sleeping. I’m too young to live alone so I live with a family—they’re close friends and I kinda adopted them as family ‘cause I’m an orphan—so the dad was up at that hour and my mobile was near him. I heard him saying ‘Stockholm? In Sweden?’ and nearly fainted.”

More laughter at that.

Question: “This is usually the second question asked. Can you describe your reaction when you realized that this was the Nobel Prize phone call?”

Answer: “Of course, total and absolute shock. The award always goes to scientists who have had years of research and have established international credentials and generally have tenured academic positions. I’m a kid who got really curious about what looked like an anomaly in electron flow in Josephson junctions and just had begun to explore that.”

Question: “The Nobel has come so very early in your life—you have your entire professional career ahead of you. This is trite, but what will you do for an encore?”

Laughter.

Answer: “I’m thinking I won’t be another Madam Curie—and erm ... John Bardeen who had two physics awards ... someone else won two science Nobels too—and win a second one myself, but I do have a whole slew of ideas related to this work to extend it—I’m working on one of those ideas at the APL right now, in fact. As well, there are a couple of problems I have working notes on. Physics has loads of interesting problems. For sure I won’t run out of things to do.”

More laughter.

Question: “When you first had your idea—about the Josephson junctions you mentioned—and you realized what you had discovered and its potential, did it occur to you that it might win a Nobel?”