121: Chapter 121 The Collapse of the Scientific Community

"Some are jumping off buildings, others are shooting themselves."

"The situation is temporarily under control. Those scientists who haven't succeeded in committing suicide have been restrained by security personnel and are unable to take their own lives."

Biden heard this, closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them.

The breath he had been holding while Chief of Staff Madeleine Rasmussen reported the conclusions of the National Academy of Sciences was finally released.

These scientists are the cornerstone of the America; the death of any one of them is an irreparable loss to the country's long-term competitiveness.

Fortunately, this matter is temporarily under control.

"It seems the personnel at the National Academy of Sciences have better overall resilience; at least there hasn't been a case of mass suicide."

Chief of Staff Madeleine Rasmussen closed the briefing file in her hand, her voice dropping another half-tone. Her tone was as steady as possible, but her wording left no room for the President to think that everything was over.

"Mr. President, this is because there are troops stationed at the National Academy of Sciences."

"The military stopped those crazed scientists inside the academy in time, preventing the situation from spiraling further out of control."

"It is exactly the same as the intervention model used by several of our subordinate research departments."

Biden stood there in silence for a good while.

He looked up again at the π = 3 that was still quietly floating above the firmament.

The daytime sky was very clear.

Sunlight shone on the neatly trimmed bushes surrounding the South Lawn, reflecting a clean, bright green.

But π = 3 hung there, motionless.

He finally realized how wide and deep this brand-new trouble before him was.

The National Academy of Sciences of the America, the core scientific research institution of the America with the most authoritative reputation and highest academic status globally, had only avoided mass insanity among its internal scientists by relying on military presence.

The impact this formula caused on the entire Earth was not a clear-cut military threat like the laser fleet yesterday, but an internal detonation that was even more impossible to defend against than a deep-penetrating bunker buster.

What it pierced through was the logical foundation upon which the entire civilization relied for its survival.

He withdrew his gaze and looked at Chief of Staff Madeleine Rasmussen, speaking at a steady pace.

"Immediately notify the heads of all departments: the National Academy of Sciences, the Office of Science and Technology Policy, the National Science Foundation, the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, and the Department of Energy's Office of Science, and have them all come to the White House for an emergency meeting."

"I need to figure out exactly what kind of problem π = 3 is, and how this problem should be solved."

...

White House, Situation Room.

The row of cold lights above the curved long table illuminated everyone's face, making their features sharp and distinct.

Only forty minutes had passed since Biden ordered the emergency meeting, and the heads of the America' five top scientific research institutions had all arrived.

Sitting at the head of the left side of the long table was Dr. Edwin Hartford, President of the National Academy of Sciences, seventy-two years old, with a full head of silver hair and an old-fashioned pair of horn-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

Spread out in front of him was a stack of printed experimental data brought directly from the alien UFO wreckage research base, with scorch marks from laser cutting still remaining on the edges of the pages.

Sitting next to him was Dr. Margaret Vaughn, Director of the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency.

She was fifty-eight, with short, graying hair, wearing a dark blue casual jacket without any insignia. Her hands were crossed on the table, her fingertips trembling slightly from not having left the laboratory keyboard for dozens of consecutive hours.

Lawrence Chamberlain, Director of the Department of Energy's Office of Science, sat to Vaughn's right; he was sixty-four, thin, and the wrinkles on his face appeared particularly deep under the cold lights.

Jillian Frost, Director of the Office of Science and Technology Policy, and her deputy sat side-by-side on the right side of the long table; she was a tall woman in her forties who spoke very quickly, and the encrypted tablet in front of her was scrolling with data summaries transmitted from subordinate departments.

Nathan Klein, Director of the National Science Foundation, sat in the position closest to the door.

He was fifty, wore thin-rimmed glasses, and had been silent from the moment he entered until now, only repeatedly flipping through the joint assessment report in his hands that had been cross-annotated by various departments.

On the chairs against the wall behind them, Vice President Harris, Graves, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Mark Milley, National Security Advisor Strauss, Secretary of State Monroe, Director of National Intelligence Alan Holt, and NASA Administrator Callahan were seated in order.

Biden sat in the very center of the curved long table with his hands crossed on the tabletop, swept his gaze from Hartford to Klein, and then nodded, signaling for the meeting to begin.

The opening remarks were very brief; Biden did not beat around the bush and directly asked Hartford to speak first.

Hartford pushed the stack of experimental data in front of him forward by half an inch, took off his horn-rimmed glasses to wipe the lenses with his cuff, and spoke after putting them back on.

"Mr. President, colleagues."

"Since we obtained the wreckage of the alien UFO that crashed southeast of the Hoover Dam, we have been conducting reverse engineering research."

"The first problem we discovered was: as soon as the debris from the UFO of Grey Alien was cut by a laser cutter, it would instantly explode into powder, releasing energy equivalent to several hundred kilograms of TNT."

He pushed an experimental photo showing the comparison before and after the explosion to the center of the table.

"At first, we couldn't find the reason at all."

"A palm-sized piece of metal, with no gunpowder, no chemical explosives, and no radioactive isotopes, released a detonation on the level of a small tactical explosive the instant the laser touched its surface."

"We repeatedly tested every possible physical mechanism, and none of them could explain it."

"Until…"

He paused, took off his glasses, rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingertips, and his tone suddenly dropped a few degrees.

That short, dull pause explained the situation better than any long-winded speech.

Everyone present knew what he was going to say:

It was only until that formula appeared in the firmament that they finally understood everything.

And that formula was also the culprit that caused the scientists inside the National Academy of Sciences to go collectively insane.

Hartford did not use any modifiers when mentioning this point; he just remained silent for a moment, put his glasses back on the bridge of his nose, and continued speaking in his usual calm tone.

But everyone present heard the sorrow suppressed beneath that old voice.

Biden was silent for a moment; when he spoke, his tone was steady, but his wording hid clear concern.

"Dr. Hartford, I have already learned about the personnel losses at the academy."

"The military presence was timely, preventing the situation from spiraling further out of control."

"You have done your best."

His pace was steady, but he slowed down slightly for the last few words, allowing the other party to catch their breath before what he had to say next.

Then Dr. Margaret Vaughn took over the conversation.