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An hour later, night was falling. The view through the picture windows of the cabin was that of an indigo sky blending slowly with the matte black of the MacDonnell mountain range. With this for a backdrop, dinner arrived, brought in by a private steward on a rolling cart.
Kurt paid the steward, included a generous tip, and then acted as a combination sommelier and maître d’, laying a cloth napkin across Hayley’s lap and presenting the wine.
“A 2008 Penngrove Cabernet Sauvignon.”
“I love a good cabernet,” Hayley said, her eyes sparkling like a child awaiting a present.
“I haven’t had this one,” Kurt said. “I’m told it’s very smooth, with a hint of licorice and vanilla.”
He uncorked the bottle and took her glass, pouring it from about ten inches above. “A good fall helps the wine to aerate,” he said. “It speeds up the breathing process. But we should still give it a few minutes.”
“Why not?” Hayley replied. “The poor crushed grapes have been in there for years. Be a shame not to give them a few minutes to soak up the fresh air.”
Kurt poured a glass of his own and set the bottle down.
Next, he lifted the insulating covers from the plates set up before them. An avocado-green-colored soup with dashes of red was first. “Pea-and-ham soup, with a hint of garlic.”
“Looks delicious.”
Pulling the cover off the second scrumptious-looking dish, Kurt continued, “Braised short ribs with silver-beet gratin. And the pièce de résistance…” He removed the final lid. “Bread-and-butter pudding, soaked in sweetened custard and brandy.”
“I might just start with that,” Hayley said. “How on earth did you conjure up such fantastic foods on a train out here in the never-never?”
“Platinum service,” Kurt said. “And, besides, the chef is a personal friend of mine. At least he has been for the last few hours.”
She took a deep breath. “If this is traveling, perhaps I could get used to it.”
Kurt sat down as Hayley sampled the soup.
“Must say I’ve never met someone so brave and intelligent who’s afraid to travel,” Kurt said.
“I know it’s strange,” she said. “I know all the statistics, how the most dangerous part of any trip is the drive to the airport. I understand aerodynamics, and I spend half my life dreaming about far-off places, but something grips me when I leave home.”
“You seem okay now,” Kurt pointed out.
She smiled. “Maybe it’s the company.”
“Consider me your personal guide and protector wherever we go.”
“Truth is, I’d love to see the world,” she said. “And the universe. I used to dream about being an astronaut. Seems a little silly, when getting out of Sydney makes me feel like I’m going to be ill.”
“The universe is a big step,” Kurt said. “Let’s start by getting to Perth.”
The Ghan would take them south to Port Augusta, where they’d board another of Australia’s great trains for the journey west.
For the next twenty minutes, they ate and chatted lightly, enjoying the atmosphere and the gentle motion of the train. Only after they’d had their second helpings of bread pudding did Kurt ask the question that was most on his mind.
“So tell me about zero-point energy,” he said.
She finished the last sip of her cabernet and slid her glass toward him. Kurt filled it halfway and then topped off his own glass.
“Zero-point energy is a relatively simple concept,” she said. “It’s the energy remaining in a system when all that can be drawn from it has been taken out.”
She pointed to the bottle of wine. “Imagine this bottle is a system or an energy field, and you or I decide to drink from it with a straw.”
“Which we would never do,” Kurt pointed out.
“Not unless we were outrageously desperate,” she replied with a conspiratorial smile. “But assuming we’d lost all sense of decorum and decided to give it a try, we’d be able to siphon off the energy from it right down to the bottom of the straw. But any wine below the reaches of the straw would remain behind untapped. That wine that can’t be reached is the zero-point energy.”
