Acabamos de ler A Filha do Apanhador de Bala em um dos grupos de livros de ficção científica que eu vou. Eu tive que acelerar a leitura (porque eu deixei tarde - típico de mim :-) e fiquei sem saber o porquê de todo esse alarido.
Cuidado - os spoilers seguem:
Orville's box appears to me to be some form of variable power chemical laser. The book describes how the wound in Fabulo's hand was cauterised by it (though admittedly it isn't normally spoken of as producing great heat). It also blinds Timpson, which again is typical of lasers at medium powers.
Por isso, não entendo como as pessoas acham isso:
the box had the power of transmutation. Specifically of turning lead into gold.
Eu perdi alguma coisa na trama que explica isso, ou isso é apenas uma trama casual do autor? Já voltei ao (e) livro usando a pesquisa por palavra-chave para encontrar em qualquer lugar a caixa mencionada, mas simplesmente não vejo a conexão.
O tema aqui, e na verdade de grande parte do livro, é o que acontece quando as pessoas acreditam nas coisas - sejam elas verdadeiras ou meras ilusões.
Each person has projected something different onto this artefact. For one it may be capable of extending life. For another it may create gold. And for the Patent Office it may in some way damage the 'wellbeing of the common man'. Elizabeth sees things more clearly, ultimately recognising the container it is in as the answer to her problems.
A "máquina" dá a impressão de ser um laser químico rudimentar;
“A machine? Does it belong to the Duchess’s brother? Is it a gun? A weapon of some kind? Speak quickly.”
“It’s a box like this...” He gestured, holding his hands apart in front of him to the width of perhaps a foot and a half.
“But what does it do?”
“It draws light in the air. Easy as drawing a line in the dust with a stick.”
Como a máquina é um anacronismo, eles confundem a capacidade do laser de cortar metal pela capacidade de transmutar metais básicos, uma falácia lógica baseada na suposição de que o ouro �feito de luz (geralmente luz do sol)
“The duration of the beam was so brief, it deceived the eye into believing that nothing had happened. And its power... Until then I’d not believed that light could change the nature of metal. But in the place where the beam had touched the iron gatepost, we found a hole; pencil thin and perfectly smooth.”
e, finalmente, a máquina se mostra inútil na criação de ouro (obviamente).
“He saw that our first goal must be to identify and replicate the reagents. Unless we could make fresh supplies, the machine would soon be useless. Then he said we could combine the light beam with various substances mentioned in the notes of past alchemists – of which he’d assembled a great collection. He kept reaching into the air as he spoke, grasping it and pulling it back to him, as if he were trying to catch the essence of life. Together we would defeat poverty, he said. Such was the force of his personality, I couldn’t help but believe him. He shared my goals, I thought. We would do all this together.”