The Einstein Papers Read Free

Einstein requested a car, it was usually the Packard that arrived.
    Elegant yet understated, the Packard-designed coachwork was finished in a lacquer color the factory called mourning dove gray. The entire length of the body sported a pair of thin red accent lines that ended on the front fenders in a rolling wave. The hood was long and hinged in the middle, with a chrome strip down the center. To each side of the hood sat fenders, the passenger side featuring a rounded hump where the sidemount spare tire was stored. Huge round headlights, mounted inside the flowing sheet metal of the fenders, pointed the way forward. The vehicle was powered by an eight-cylinder engine that operated so quietly it was nearly impossible to tell when the engine was running. Its power was channeled though a hydrostatic transmission that required no shifting of the gears. The seats were finished in red leather, the headliner was made of gray mohair, and the thick felt carpets muffled any road noise. Set inside the massive dashboard of the Packard was a radio that sent the sound to a speaker in the driver’s area as well as to a single chrome-covered speaker mounted on the dividing wall to the rear compartment and facing to the rear. On the radio an orchestra performing works by Beethoven was playing lightly as Scaramelli slowed, then turned off the pavement and started down the dirt road to the marina.
    Braking the Packard sedan to a stop on the gravel parking lot of the marina, Scaramelli scurried to open the rear door, then waited as Einstein climbed slowly from the leather-trimmed rear compartment. On the gravel next to the Packard, the physicist stood and breathed deeply of the salt air for a few moments.
    “What a glorious day,” he noted, his words still thick with his native German accent.
    Scaramelli nodded silently. The student was still in awe of the great man and found ordinary conversation with him difficult. He walked respectfully behind as Einstein entered the marina building.
    Hartley looked up from the fishing magazine he was reading on the counter as the door swung open. He smiled, folded the magazine closed, and greeted Einstein warmly. “Good to see you, Doctor. Your boat is all ready to sail.”
    Einstein returned the smile and nodded slowly. “Thank you, Ernie,” he said simply, his eyes squinting slightly from the dim light inside the building.
    With Hartley leading the way, Einstein and Scaramelli walked through the marina building. The shelves lining the marinas walls were crammed floor to ceiling with dusty chandlery. Boxes of oil were piled next to wooden crates containing bottles of soda. Spools containing the material to sew new sails sat alongside shelves stacked with fresh-cut hardwoods that tinted the air with their scents as they aged. A polished brass antique binnacle with round balancing weights sat off to one side.
    Einstein paused to peer at the compass inside. “That is what started me in science,” he said to no one in particular.
    Hartley smiled at the physicist, having heard the story before.
    “I wondered why the needle always pointed north,” Einstein said quietly as the men exited through the door leading to the dock.
    Walking along a weathered wooden ramp, the trio stopped at Einstein’s boat, which rocked gently in the waves lapping at the dock. The floating dock where the sailboat was moored was nearly level with the ramp. The water was at high tide.
    “You should catch the outgoing tide nicely,” Hartley said, studying the water.
    “Ah, an ebb tide,” Einstein said as he climbed aboard the vessel whose bow was already pointing seaward. “Excellent.”
    Checking the boat absentmindedly, he raised one of the sails of the sloop, then settled behind the helm. His hands upon the highly polished wheel, he nodded toward Hartley, who started untying the lines but then stopped.
    “I forgot something, Doctor,” Hartley said. “I’ll just be a second.”
    Running inside, he quickly returned