Angels & Demons - Hassaan Bin Khalil

physical equation.”
Langdon thought of Galileo’s belief of duality.
“Scientists have known since 1918,” Vittoria said, “that two kinds of matter were created in the Big
Bang. One matter is the kind we see here on earth, making up rocks, trees, people. The other is its
inverse—identical to matter in all respects except that the charges of its particles are reversed.”
Kohler spoke as though emerging from a fog. His voice sounded suddenly precarious. “But there are
enormous technological barriers to actually storing antimatter. What about neutralization?”
“My father built a reverse polarity vacuum to pull the antimatter positrons out of the accelerator
before they could decay.”
Kohler scowled. “But a vacuum would pull out the matter also. There would be no way to separate
the particles.”
“He applied a magnetic field. Matter arced right, and antimatter arced left. They are polar opposites.”
At that instant, Kohler’s wall of doubt seemed to crack. He looked up at Vittoria in clear
astonishment and then without warning was overcome by a fit of coughing. “Incred… ible…” he said,
wiping his mouth, “and yet…” It seemed his logic was still resisting. “Yet even if the vacuum worked,
these canisters are made of matter. Antimatter cannot be stored inside canisters made out of matter. The
antimatter would instantly react with—”
“The specimen is not touching the canister,” Vittoria said, apparently expecting the question. “The
antimatter is suspended. The canisters are called ‘antimatter traps’ because they literally trap the
antimatter in the center of the canister, suspending it at a safe distance from the sides and bottom.”
“Suspended? But… how?”
“Between two intersecting magnetic fields. Here, have a look.”
Vittoria walked across the room and retrieved a large electronic apparatus. The contraption reminded
Langdon of some sort of cartoon ray gun—a wide cannonlike barrel with a sighting scope on top and a
tangle of electronics dangling below. Vittoria aligned the scope with one of the canisters, peered into
the eyepiece, and calibrated some knobs. Then she stepped away, offering Kohler a look.
Kohler looked nonplussed. “You collected visible amounts?”
“Five thousand nanograms,” Vittoria said. “A liquid plasma containing millions of positrons.”
“Millions? But a few particles is all anyone has ever detected… anywhere.”
“Xenon,” Vittoria said flatly. “He accelerated the particle beam through a jet of xenon, stripping
away the electrons. He insisted on keeping the exact procedure a secret, but it involved simultaneously
injecting raw electrons into the accelerator.”
Langdon felt lost, wondering if their conversation was still in English.
Kohler paused, the lines in his brow deepening. Suddenly he drew a short breath. He slumped like
he’d been hit with a bullet. “Technically that would leave…”
Vittoria nodded. “Yes. Lots of it.”
Kohler returned his gaze to the canister before him. With a look of uncertainty, he hoisted himself in
his chair and placed his eye to the viewer, peering inside. He stared a long time without saying
anything. When he finally sat down, his forehead was covered with sweat. The lines on his face had
disappeared. His voice was a whisper. “My God… you really did it.”
Vittoria nodded. “My father did it.”
“I… I don’t know what to say.”
Vittoria turned to Langdon. “Would you like a look?” She motioned to the viewing device.
Uncertain what to expect, Langdon moved forward. From two feet away, the canister appeared
empty. Whatever was inside was infinitesimal. Langdon placed his eye to the viewer. It took a moment
for the image before him to come into focus.
Then he saw it.
The object was not on the bottom of the container as he expected, but rather it was floating in the
center—suspended in midair—a shimmering globule of mercurylike liquid. Hovering as if by magic,