The Soul of the Matter by Bruce Buff Read Free Book Online Page B

it’s already been delayed. After that, it would still be a long time before we could get to the point of building commercial fusion power plants. Beyond the technical questions, it’s an issue of how much we spend.” He directed his attention to the students. “That brings me to a last question: how much do we spend in the US per year on fusion energy research?”
    A number of students shouted out amounts ranging from one billion dollars to fifty billion dollars.
    â€œNot even close. How about two hundred million dollars? In a country that has been energy-dependent, we spend less on this than on studying the mating habits of various animals, less than on bridges that go nowhere, and a fraction of what the President of the United States spent on his campaign.”
    â€œIsn’t that because people aren’t sure it can ever work?” one student asked.
    â€œPersonally, I think it is more about energy politics than anything else. After all, look at the tens of billions of dollars the government spends every year on ideas that can’t possibly provide the amount of energy we need.”
    One student asked, “Is there anything we can do about this?”
    Viktor answered, “It would help to have an informed and involved electorate.” In truth, he thought the odds against that were very high. Just look at how little effort people put into understanding financial markets, government and trade deficits, and the state of education. After all, writing something witty on Facebook or Twitter already took up a lot of their time. In this willfully knowledge-limited world,emotional self-certainty was more than enough to fuel support for candidates.
    â€œMaybe anything nuclear sounding seems like it can always go wrong,” Alyssa said.
    â€œSomething can always go wrong with anything, often in unexpected ways,” Viktor said.

Chapter 11
    A fter Dan buzzed Joanna in, he poured a cup of coffee, opened a book, and placed both on the kitchen table, trying to make everything seem relaxed and natural. He opened the door and smiled as Joanna climbed the last few steps of the stairway.
    Happily married for more than twenty-seven years, Joanna had two children in college and a nice income from her remarkably accomplished impressionist painting. Joanna lived on the coast of Connecticut, not far from the Rhode Island border, in Stonington, an old fishing town with classic homes and a quaint main street. She was one of the rare people actually content with life.
    Although she was twelve years older, Joanna and Dan had always been close. When he was young, her steadiness and warmth had always comforted him. Though she was only ninety minutes away, Dan didn’t visit her often. Not these days.
    â€œDan, it’s great to see you,” she said as she entered his apartment and hugged him. Tall and angular, she had long, light-brown hair with natural highlights framing her face. Her brown eyes sparkled.
    â€œYou, too,” he replied with muted pleasure.
    â€œThe coffee smells good. Mind if I pour myself a cup?”
    â€œI’ll get it. I hope you can stay awhile,” Dan said, not sure if that was what he wanted at all.
    â€œNot long. I have to get back home. How’s everything?”
    â€œGood. Staying busy with work and other things,” Dan answered, his internal alarms rising for the probing he thought he heard in her voice.
    â€œHonestly? You don’t seem to be yourself these days.”
    â€œEverything is fine. Really it is,” Dan said, trying to convince them both with an almost upbeat voice as the questioning that he dreaded was materializing.
    â€œLately you’ve sounded so unhappy. I’ve been worried.”
    â€œIs this why you came by?” Exasperated, Dan walked to the window, quickly glanced out, then turned toward Joanna and waited for her response.
    â€œAlthough I wanted to see you anyway, I need a simple, but important,