The waning sun cast a molten sheen over the seemingly infinite expanse of the Pacific ocean, far below me. I was in my thirteenth hour of a trans-Pacific flight when the plane began to descend. On the horizon a tiny, distant blotch of land emerged, which gradually began to look like Taiwan. I made random movements of my limbs, reassuring myself that some blood was still flowing there, as Taiwan grew in the little window to my left.
Lately, I have been a journalist, ostensibly a science writer, for a fledgling publication called
Unpopular Science
, which provides slightly iconoclastic coverage of current developments in the science world. I'm low man on the totem pole, and I get the less-than-choice assignments.
In this case, I was on my way to cover a conference at National Cheng Kung University in Tainan City -- not exactly a household word. But National Cheng Kung U. has a fusion lab of sorts, the Plasma and Space Science Center, and this was a topic of some interest to me.
The idea of building a machine to contain a fusion plasma -- essentially, a little chunk of what the sun is made of -- has always intrigued me. And of course, once the engineering problems are solved, we will have clean energy in tremendous abundance, which might come in handy.
After landing in Taipei and taking a shuttle flight to Tainan City, I checked into my hotel and began to get the lay of the land. The downtown buildings were festooned with tall, narrow, boldly colored signs, each with a vertical sequence of Chinese characters. It was my first visit to Taiwan, and the summer climate made me feel like an egg being poached -- intense, humid heat. I had the sensation of swimming through the air as I made my way to the Magnetic Mirror Plasma Laboratory to pick up a few brochures, after which I went to have a look at the conference facilities.
One of my objectives was to find someone relatively prominent to interview, but this was not really an "A List" conference. I saw a number of attendees milling around, and I tried to look nonchalant as I scrutinized them, looking for someone who might be relatively notable. One woman caught my eye, as the other participants seemed to treat her deferentially. I wandered near her, maneuvering myself into position to catch a glimpse of her ID badge. I squinted at it, trying not to be too obvious, and I was able to discern that it said "Dr. Alyona Rabinovich."
The name rang a bell for me. I reached for my trusty digital companion and Googled her surname. Aha -- M.S. Rabinovich was the founder of the Russian Stellarator program. The Stellarator was a design for a magnetic confinement fusion reactor, where magnetic fields are used to contain a plasma at a temperature in the millions of degrees, too hot to be contained by metal or any other solid material. Although it was designed in the West, the Stellarator was discarded there in favor of the donut-shaped Tokomak design. Meanwhile, the Russians picked up the Stellarator and ran with it.
I now took a long look at Dr. Rabinovich. She looked steely and authoritative, her dark eyes peering intensely out of her silver-framed glasses. But there was also something charming and unaffected about her -- her shaggy, dark-blonde hair fell loosely to her shoulders, with bangs that partially obscured her eyes at times, and gave her a slightly disheveled, carefree look. And I was not oblivious to the fact that although her attire was not intended to emphasize it, it was clear that she was rather voluptuous.
Just then, the crowd around her receded, and she was momentarily unoccupied. I seized the opportunity and approached her, brandishing my press credentials. "Excuse me, Dr. Rabinovich," I said. She politely gave me her attention. "I'm Andre LeMagne with
Unpopular Science.
" Her face went blank. "It's a small American publication," I explained, somewhat apologetically. "I couldn't help but wonder whether you might be related to M.S. Rabinovitch of the Stellarator program." This time the light of recognition appeared on her face.
"A distant relative, a great uncle, I believe. And I don't work on Stellarators." She smiled wryly.
"Well, I'm here to cover the conference, and I wondered whether we might arrange an interview."
"Perhaps," she replied. "I'll tell you what -- I'm about to grab lunch, why don't you come along and we can discuss whether my work will be interesting to your publication." Her English was quite fluent, with only a hint of an accent.
"That would be great," I said, and we made our way out of the hall into the oppressive heat of the Taiwanese summer. Dr. Rabinovich seemed to know her way around Tainan City, because after just a few minutes we had entered an unassuming establishment near the campus and were enjoying little bowls of dànzǎi miàn, the traditional noodles with meat sauce, and bottles of strong Taiwanese beer. She told me it was her favorite hangout when she visited Tainan.
She went on to explain, "I'm working on the fusion-fission hybrid reactor. I'll be going back to China soon to collaborate with their program." She called the waitress to order a second beer.
I was puzzled. "Is there anything going on at this conference that relates to that?"
She grinned mischievously. "Absolutely nothing. But I'm here sort of as a diplomat, and also because I have an interest in Electromagnetically Induced Transparency phenomena and drift waves and turbulence."
"Cool," I said, making a mental note to find out what the heck it was. "I'd love to interview you about that. And that will give me an excuse to go into some of your other work with the hybrid reactors. But what do you mean, that you're here as a diplomat?"
She gave me another sardonic grin. "Well, you know, your government has an unfortunate policy of trying to stir up contention between China and Taiwan. So Taiwan tends to be sort of like the jealous little sister. I spend a lot of time in China, working on the hybrid, so I must put in an appearance here in Taiwan, so Taiwan will know that we love her as well."
"That would be interesting in my interview."
She winked. "Which is exactly why it should not be there."
"I don't have a problem leaving it out. It will be a friendly interview."
"Good, that sounds like a lot of fun. Listen," she said, "I've got to get back. I have a couple of meetings to attend before the conference opens up tomorrow. But I'm sure we can schedule an interview some time this week."
"Great!" I replied. We exchanged business cards, and she hurried out the door. I began to make my way through the thick summer air, back to my hotel.
The next morning, I got up early and Googled assiduously until I thought I had a pretty fair idea of what Electromagnetically Induced Transparency phenomena and drift waves and turbulence were all about. Then I got dressed and shaved, and headed over to the conference.
I did some snooping around and listened to a few presentations. When the conference broke for lunch, I headed for the main hall and spotted Dr. Rabinovich, who seemed to be just concluding a colloquy with some colleagues.
"Good afternoon, Dr. Rabinovich," I said. "I'm wondering whether you might be free to conduct that interview over some more dànzǎi miàn?"
She smiled indulgently and corrected my pronunciation. Then she nodded and said, "Sure."
