Authors: Mai Jia
The end result of their discussions was that Liseiwicz’s father-inlaw was released, and in return X country allowed two of our scientists that they had barred from leaving to come home. It seemed almost as if this horrible old man – who deserved everything that he had coming to him – had suddenly become a national treasure. Of course, he was nothing to X country; they wanted Liseiwicz. It seems as though they had decided that no price was too high to pay for him. So the question was, why was X country so determined to get Liseiwicz? Was it simply because he was a world-famous mathematician? It seemed that there must be more to it, but as to what on earth that could be, I did not have the faintest idea.
Shortly after his father-in-law was released from prison, Liseiwicz and his entire family departed for X country.
[To be continued]
When Liseiwicz left the country, Jinzhen was still hospitalized, though it seemed that he was now out of danger. The hospital, concerned about the mounting medical bills, accepted the patient’s request to be transferred to his home to recover. The day that he left hospital, Master Rong and her mother went to collect him. The doctor who was waiting to meet them naturally mistook one of them for the patient’s mother. However, judging by their ages, one was a bit old and the other a bit too young, so he had to ask a rather bold question: ‘Which of you is the patient’s mother?’
Master Rong was just about to explain, but her mother had already answered loud and clear: ‘Me!’
The doctor explained to Mrs Rong that Jinzhen’s illness was now under control and his condition was stable, but he would require more than a year of special treatment to make a full recovery. ‘During the course of the next twelve months, you are going to have to look after him like a baby, or he might well still suffer a relapse.’
When the doctor took her through the detailed list of what she would have to do, Mrs Rong realized that his comparison was entirely justified. There were however three key points to the treatment:
1. His food would be subject to extremely severe restrictions.
2. During the night he would have to be woken up at set intervals to empty his bladder.
3. Every day he would have to be given his medication, which would include injections, at certain set times.
Mrs Rong put on her spectacles and made notes of everything the doctor said; then she checked through them and asked questions to make sure that she had entirely understood every point. When she got back home, she asked her daughter to bring a blackboard and some chalk from the university and wrote out everything that the doctor had said. She then placed the blackboard in the stairwell so that she would see it every time she went up or down the stairs during the day. Since she had to get up regularly during the night to wake up Jinzhen to empty his bladder, she and Young Lillie started sleeping in separate bedrooms. She had two alarm clocks placed by the head of the bed, one set to ring just after midnight, the other in the early hours of the morning. After the early morning call to empty his bladder, Jinzhen would go back to sleep, but Mrs Rong would remain up so that she could prepare the first of the five meals that he had to eat during the course of the day. Although she was a fine cook, this was now by far the most difficult and time-consuming thing that she had to do. By comparison, having spent a lifetime punching holes in thick layers of felt to make cloth shoes, giving an injection was not a particularly difficult thing to learn to do – it was just the first couple of days that she was nervous and hesitant. But when it came to making food, how to prevent it from becoming tasteless and bland was a constant source of worry. The basic principle was simple: at that time Jinzhen was abnormally sensitive to salt and yet his life depended upon it: give him too much and he would suffer a relapse; give him too little and he would take much longer to recover than was strictly necessary. The doctor’s instructions on this point were extremely precise: during the patient’s period of convalescence, he would start by being allowed merely micrograms of salt, but that as time went by the amount could be gradually increased.
Of course, if a person’s daily intake of salt could be measured in grams or ounces, this is not a particularly difficult problem to solve – you just buy a good pair of scales. The problem the Rong family was faced with was not nearly so easy to solve because Mrs Rong found it impossible to lay hands on an accurate enough set of scales, so to begin with she just had to use her own careful and patient judgement. Later on Mrs Rong took a whole load of different dishes into the hospital and got the doctors to pronounce on whether they were suitable. She had already made a note of how much salt she had put in each one – having counted every single grain – and once the doctors had decided which ones were suitably unsalty, five times a day she would put on her spectacles and dole out the white and glossy grains of salt, counting them one by one as if they were the pills that would save Jinzhen’s life.
She was enormously careful when she put salt in his food. She put the salt in as if conducting a scientific experiment. Thus as one day followed another, as one night followed another, as one month followed another, her diligence and patience were as tested as if she had indeed been looking after a baby. Sometimes, in a moment of rest between bouts of this exhausting labour, she would take out the letter that Jinzhen had written in his own blood and look at it – it had been Jinzhen’s secret but having discovered it by accident, she kept it without being entirely sure why. Now, every time that she looked at this slip of paper, she was even more sure that everything that she was doing was worth it: it encouraged her to go back to work with redoubled energy. More than anything else, it was this that dragged Jinzhen from the brink of the grave.
While Jinzhen was being coddled like a newborn baby, Liseiwicz was in contact with Young Lillie on three occasions. The first was not long after he arrived in X country: he sent a picture postcard with a beautiful landscape – on the back there was a simple greeting and a return address. It was his home address so there was no way of knowing where he was working. The second communication arrived not long after the first. It was a letter in response to Young Lillie’s reply. He said that he was very happy to know that Jinzhen was better. He gave a vague reply concerning Young Lillie’s questions about his work; he said that he was working in a research institute but said nothing about which one or what he was doing there – it was almost as if he wasn’t allowed to tell us about it. The third letter addressed to Young Lillie arrived just before Chinese New Year – Liseiwicz wrote it on Christmas Eve. The stamp on the envelope showed a Christmas tree. In his letter, Liseiwicz mentioned that he had recently received amazing news from a friend: Princeton University had amalgamated several independent research units to create an institute dedicated to the issue of artificial intelligence – their work would be directed by the famous mathematician Paul Samuelson. He wrote: ‘This means that it is not just me that has realized the value and importance of this field of research . . . As far as I am aware, this is the first group working on this subject anywhere in the world.’
Supposing that Jinzhen was really better (and in fact he had pretty much recovered completely by this time), he was hoping that he too would start work on the field. He made it clear that if Jinzhen could not carry out research into artificial intelligence in China, he thought he should leave and find somewhere better to work. He told Young Lillie that he should not let short-term benefits or problems prevent Jinzhen from achieving the great things of which he was capable. Perhaps it was because he was afraid that Young Lillie would insist on making Jinzhen stay with him and work on this problem that he even lugged a Chinese proverb into his argument: ‘A fine sword should not be used for chopping firewood.’
‘Anyway,’ he wrote, ‘the reason why I insisted that Jinzhen should study in America in the past, the reason why I want him to do so now, is because here he has the facilities to support his work – if he comes here, he will find everything much easier.’
As I have said before, Jinzhen was sent to us by God to research this subject. In the past I have been worried that we would be unable to provide him with the quite the surroundings that he needs, not to mention the support that would carry him through all the difficulties that he will face. However, I now believe we can give him the right circumstances in which to carry on his work and space in which to breathe: Princeton University. There is a joke in your country about the girl who sews a wedding gown for another bride to wear – maybe one day people will discover that all the work Paul Samuelson’s group has put in has achieved nothing but cutting the cloth for a Chinese bride . . .
Young Lillie read this letter in a break between undergraduate classes. While he was reading it, the loudspeaker just outside the window was playing a popular song at top volume:
With heads held high,
Grinning in the teeth of danger,
We cross the Yalu River.
The newspaper he had just been looking at was lying on the table in front of him – the headline was one of the political slogans of the day: ‘American Imperialism Is a Paper Tiger’. Listening to the rousing words of the song, looking at the heavy black ink of the headline, he felt completely helpless. He had no idea what he should say to his faraway correspondent – he was also more than a little frightened, as if there was some other person, hidden in the shadows, who was waiting for him to write back. At that time he was the vice-chancellor of N University, but he was also the deputy mayor of C City. That was the reward the People’s Republic of China had given the Rong family for their many years of devotion to science, learning and patriotism over the course of several generations. This was the happiest time of his life – he wasn’t the kind of person to care for nothing but personal aggrandizement, but he wouldn’t have been human if he didn’t enjoy it. The Rong family had been going through a long period of decline, but now the good days were back again – he was treasuring every minute of it. It was only the fact that he had very much the air of an ivory-tower intellectual that made people imagine that he did not appreciate his present good fortune.
In the end, Young Lillie did not write back to Jan Liseiwicz. He took Liseiwicz’s letter and two newspapers full of coverage of the bloody battles between the American Army and the Chinese People’s Volunteer Army in Korea to Jinzhen, and told him to write back to the man.
He said, ‘Thank him, but tell him that you can’t leave because of the Korean War. I am sure that he will be very sad that things ended like this: I am too, but the person who has lost the most here is you. I think that God wasn’t on your side here.’
Later on, when Jinzhen handed him the draft of the letter and asked him to have a look, the old man seemed to have forgotten his earlier advice. He struck through about half of the text, which expressed regret and disappointment – the remainder was given back to Jinzhen with further instructions: ‘You had better clip some of the newspaper reports and send them to him along with your letter.’
That was in the spring of 1951.
After Chinese New Year, Jinzhen went back to class. Of course, he didn’t go to Stanford, or to Princeton, but back to N University. When Jinzhen dropped his carefully worded letter and a couple of newspaper reports that he had clipped into the postbox, he was confining one of the paths that his life might have taken to history. As Master Rong said, some letters record history while others make it: this was a letter that changed one person’s entire life.
Before Zhendi went back to class, Daddy discussed with me whether he should go back to rejoin his original class or whether he should start again as a freshman. I knew that Zhendi had fantastic grades as a student, but he had only spent a total of three weeks in class; what is more he had just recovered from a life-threatening illness – he could not possibly cope with a heavy workload. I was afraid that sending him to join the third-year classes would put too much pressure on him so I suggested that he re-enrol as a freshman. However, in the end he did not have to start again from the beginning; the university allowed him to rejoin his original classmates. Zhendi wanted it that way himself. To this day, I remember what he said: ‘God wanted me to become sick so that I would be forced to spend some time away from science books – He was worried that I might become their prisoner and lose my way creatively – in which case I would never have achieved anything.’
A weird thing to say, don’t you think? So bizarre as to almost seem a bit mad?
The fact is that Zhendi had previously suffered from very low selfesteem, but getting so sick seemed to have changed him. In actual fact, the thing that really changed him was the books that he read, a huge number of books that were nothing to do with mathematics. While he was at home recovering, he read all my books and all Daddy’s books, particularly the fiction. He read them very quickly and in a very strange way – some books he would pick up, flick through a few pages and then put them straight back again. Some people imagined that he was actually reading the books from cover to cover in that time and so they called him Little Tuk, after the H. C. Anderson character who learns his lessons by putting his schoolbooks under his pillow at night. That was ridiculous, of course. He did read very quickly, it is true – the majority of books that he took from our shelves were back within twenty-four hours. The fact is that reading quickly is related to reading a lot; the more you read, the more you know and then the quicker you read the next thing. As he read more and more books related to topics beyond the subject he was studying at university, the less interested he was in the things written in his textbooks. That is why he started to cut classes – sometimes he even cut my classes. At the end of the first term after his resumption of study, both his grades and the number of classes that he had missed were quite eye-opening: he was the top of the class and by a very long way. Another thing that he was way ahead of his classmates in was the number of books he borrowed from the university library – in one term he had borrowed more than two hundred books in subjects ranging from philosophy to literature, economics, art, military science – there was all kinds of stuff in there. It was for this reason that during the summer holidays, Daddy took him up to the attic and opened up our storeroom. Pointing to the two cases of books that Liseiwicz had left behind, he said: ‘These aren’t ordinary textbooks. Liseiwicz left them. In the future when you don’t have anything else to do, why don’t you read them? I am afraid though that you may not understand them.’
Another term passed and then in about March or April of the following academic year, Zhendi’s classmates all started working on their graduation theses. It was at around this time that a couple of the other professors in the same department came to see me, because they thought that there was a problem with the subject that Zhendi had chosen. They were hoping that I would speak to him, that I would find a way to persuade him to pick another topic. Otherwise it was going to be impossible for any of them to supervise his graduation thesis. I asked what topic he had picked and they said it was a political problem.
Zhendi had decided that he wanted to write his thesis based on a theory propounded by the famous mathematician Georg Weinacht concerning the binary nature of certain constants. The topic was to be structured around coming up with a mathematical proof for this theory. The thing is that Georg Weinacht was famous at that time in the mathematical community for his anti-communist stance – it was said that he had a notice pinned to the door of his office saying, ‘No Communists or Fellow Travellers Beyond This Point’. At the time of the most appalling carnage during the Korean War, he went on record encouraging the American Army to cross the Yalu River. I know that science is international and knows no borders, and that it is not affected by any ‘ism’, but Weinacht’s powerfully anti-communist stance did overshadow his mathematical theories and give them a political dimension. At that time, there were a number of communist countries, led by the Soviet Union, where the validity of his theories was not admitted and his work was not even mentioned – if it did come under discussion, it was the subject of much criticism. If Zhendi was hoping to prove one of his theories that would very much run counter to the tide. It was a very sensitive topic and would be seen as having dangerous political implications.
Well, I don’t know what kind of intellectual maggot Daddy got in his head – maybe he was persuaded by Zhendi’s cast-iron proofs – but at a time when everyone else was either avoiding the issue or hoping that he would talk to Zhendi and get him to change his topic, he not only did nothing of the kind, he even went so far as to weigh in on Zhendi’s side and take over as his thesis supervisor. Daddy consistently encouraged Zhendi to continue with his chosen subject.
In the end, the title of Zhendi’s graduation thesis was: ‘The Constant π as a Definable yet Irrational Number’. This was a subject far from anything that he had ever studied in class – it was much more the kind of topic that you would expect for an M.A. thesis. There is absolutely no doubt that his choice was heavily influenced by the books that he was reading in the attic . . .
[To be continued]
When he read the first draft of Jinzhen’s graduation thesis, Young Lillie was more enthusiastic than ever. He was transfixed by the beautifully incisive and logical thinking recorded therein, but some of the mathematical proofs he felt to be unnecessarily complicated and in need of improvement. The improvements were aimed at simplifying the presentation and removing unnecessary elements to the proofs. However, in order to develop the basic proofs (which in some cases were extremely elaborate), he had to use comparatively sophisticated and direct means, showing an understanding that was far from simply being confined to the field of mathematics. The first draft of Zhendi’s thesis came to 20,000 characters. After a couple of revisions, the final version came in at just over 10,000 characters. Later on it was published in the magazine
Popular Mathematics
– and made not a small splash in Chinese mathematical circles. However, there seemed to be no one who was prepared to believe that Zhendi had done it all on his own because, having been revised a couple of times, the quality had also been significantly improved. It really didn’t look like an undergraduate student’s thesis, but the ground-breaking essay of an established academic.
Having said that, the good points and the failings of Zhendi’s thesis were both perfectly clear: when you talk about the good points, beginning from a single mathematical constant, Zhendi had developed Georg Weinacht’s binary theory into a pure mathematics solution for one of the major problems facing scholars working on the issue of artificial intelligence. This gave the reader something of the feeling of having seen the invisible wind caught and held in the human hand. The failing of this thesis is that it was all built upon a supposition, whereby π is treated as a constant – all the proofs that he had developed were based upon this theory and so it was impossible for the reader not to feel that this particular castle had been built entirely upon sand. If you wanted the castle to be built upon firmer foundations, if you wanted to demonstrate the academic value of this thesis, then you would first have to prove that π is indeed a genuine constant. As to the problem of whether or not π is actually a constant, even though this issue was first raised by mathematicians many centuries ago, it still has not been conclusively proved. Today most mathematicians do believe that it is a constant, but the fact remains that as long as proof is lacking, it remains in the realm of supposition – you cannot ask that everyone else agree with you. In the same way, until Newton noticed that an apple will always naturally fall to the earth and expressed this in terms of his theory of universal gravity, everyone had the right to express their own doubts as to gravity’s existence.