Interstellar

Cooper regarded the astrophysicist. He was the youngest member of the crew, and certainly the most highly strung. He would probably be better off behind a telescope than jetting off into space, but there weren’t that many astronomers, mathematicians—scientists of any sort—left in the world. NASA poached what talent they could find from the few colleges that remained, but Cooper knew first-hand how few and rarified a group that represented. And given that kids were being taught that the American space program had been Cold War propaganda, he doubted the brain pool was getting any deeper.

No, they were lucky to have Romilly.

As long as he didn’t freak out.

That had always been one of the greatest concerns regarding long-term space exploration. They’d offset the detrimental effects of prolonged weightlessness, at least to an acceptable degree. But the potential for mental deterioration could never be eliminated as a factor.

“We’re explorers, Rom,” he told him, trying for reassurance. “On the greatest ocean of all.”

Romilly just banged his fist against the hull of the ship. The sound it made was strangely flat.

“Millimeters of aluminum—that’s it,” he declared. “And nothing within millions of miles that won’t kill us in seconds.”

He wasn’t wrong there, Cooper knew. It also wasn’t the point.

“A lot of the finest solo yachtsmen couldn’t swim,” he replied. “They knew if they fell overboard, that was it, anyway. This is no different.”

Romilly seemed to chew on that without finding much to like in it. After a moment, Cooper passed him his ear buds, emitting the sounds of a thunderstorm: the pounding of the rain, the crack of lightning splitting the sky, the cricking and croaking of frogs.

“Here,” he said, hoping it would relax Romilly the way it did him.

It was way too early for any of them to start losing it.

* * *

The magnificence of Saturn filled most of Cooper’s field of vision, but it wasn’t what held his attention. Instead he was looking over Doyle’s shoulder as he parsed through a series of images. All were star fields which looked as if they had been photographed through a fish-eye lens.

“From the relay probe?” Cooper asked.

“It was in orbit around the wormhole,” Doyle confirmed. “Each time it swung around, we got images of the other side of the foreign galaxy.”

“Like swinging a periscope around,” Cooper said.

“Exactly,” Doyle replied.

“So we’ve got a pretty good idea what we’re gonna find on the other side?” Cooper asked.

“Navigationally,” Doyle said, as Brand came up from behind.

“We’ll be coming up on the wormhole in less than forty-five,” she said. “Suit up.”

* * *

Cooper strapped into the Ranger cockpit, gazing out at the space beyond Saturn as Romilly came into the cockpit, excitement plain on his face.

Cooper keyed the radio.

“Strap in,” he told the others. “I’m killing the spin.”

He began firing controlled bursts from the engines, pushing against the direction of rotation. Slowly but inexorably the motion slowed, until the Endurance was motionless—at least relative to its own axis. And as they ground to a halt, the peculiar belly-tickle of free-fall returned.

Ahead of them, Cooper made out a distorted patch of stars, and he felt a thrill of mixed fear and wonder tremor up his spine. This was why they were here, this improbable thing.

“There!” Romilly said energetically. “That’s the wormhole.”

“Say it, don’t spray it, Nikolai,” Cooper responded, trying to keep things on an even keel. But Romilly’s enthusiasm was undeterred.

“Cooper, this is a portal, cutting through space-time,” he said. “We’re seeing the heart of a galaxy so far away we don’t even know where it is in the universe.”

Cooper stared at the thing, the astrophysicist’s words doing a slow turn in his head.

“It’s a sphere,” he noticed.

“Of course it is,” Romilly said. “You thought it would be just a hole?”

Cooper suddenly felt like he was being called on to show his homework on the board—when he hadn’t done it.

“No,” he floundered. “Well, in all the illustrations…”

Romilly grabbed a piece of paper and drew two points on it, far from each other. He seemed delighted to have the opportunity to explain it all.

“In the illustrations, they’re trying to show you how it works,” he said, poking a hole in one of the points with his pen. “So they say, ‘you wanna go from here to there, but it’s too far?’ A wormhole bends space like this—”

He folded the paper so the hole overlapped with the second point, then stuck his pen through both, joining them.

“—so you can take a shortcut across a higher dimension. But to show that, they’ve turned three-dimensional space—” He gestured around at the cockpit, then held up the paper. “—into two dimensions. Which turns the wormhole into two dimensions… a circle.”

He looked at Cooper, expecting a response.

“But what’s a circle in three dimensions?” he prompted.

“A sphere,” Cooper replied, suddenly getting it.

“Exactly,” Romilly agreed, pointing toward their destination. “It’s a spherical hole.”