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One of the most exciting things about physics is how the state of knowledge can change literally overnight. The morning after Strominger posted his paper on the electronic Internet archive, I read it in my office at Cornell (Epsilon=One: "Far Above Cayuga's Waters") after having retrieved it from the World Wide Web. In one stroke, Strominger had made use of the exciting new insights of string theory to resolve one of the thorniest issues surrounding the curling up of extra dimensions into a Calabi-Yau space. But as I pondered his paper, it struck me that he might have worked out only half of the story.

In the earlier space-tearing flop-transition work described in Chapter 11, we had studied a two-part process in which a two-dimensional sphere pinches down to a point, causing the fabric of space to tear, and then the two-dimensional sphere reinflates in a new way, thereby repairing the tear. In Strominger's paper, he had studied what happens when a three-dimensional sphere pinches down to a point, and had shown that the newfound extended objects in string theory ensure that physics continues to be perfectly well behaved. But that's where his paper stopped. Might it be that there was another half to the story, involving, once again, the tearing of space and its subsequent repair through the reinflation of spheres? (Epsilon=One: This "reinflation" appears to be describing the oscillating pulse of a Pulsoid when it collapses because its energy is transfered to Resoloids, protons and electrons, which then collapse because the Pulsoid's supporting, harmonic oscillations cease. The energy reemerges with any of infinite possible orientations from the same point where it collapsed to; thus, the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle (HUP) that affects Resoloids.)

Dave Morrison was visiting me at Cornell during the spring term of 1995, and that afternoon we got together to discuss Strominger's paper. Within a couple of hours we had an outline of what the "second half of the story" might look like. Drawing on some insights from the late 1980s of the mathematicians Herb Clemens of the University of Utah, Robert Friedman of Columbia University, and Miles Reid of the University of Warwick, as applied by Candelas, Green, and Tristan Hübsch, then of the University of Texas at Austin, we realized that when a three-dimensional sphere collapses, it may be possible for the Calabi-Yau space to tear and subsequently repair itself by reinflating the sphere. But there is an important surprise. Whereas the sphere that collapsed had three dimensions, the one that reinflates has only two. It's hard to picture what this looks like, but we can get an idea by focusing on a lower-dimensional analogy. Rather than the hard-to-picture case of a three-dimensional sphere collapsing and being replaced by a two-dimensional sphere, let's imagine a one-dimensional sphere collapsing and being replaced by a zero-dimensional sphere.

First of all, what are one- and zero-dimensional spheres? Well, let's reason by analogy. A two-dimensional sphere is the collection of points in three-dimensional space that are the same distance from a chosen center, as shown in Figure 13.2(a). By following the same idea, a one-dimensional sphere is the collection of points in two-dimensional space (the surface of this page, for example) that are the same distance from a chosen center. As shown in Figure 13.2(b), this is nothing but a circle. Finally, following the pattern, a zero-dimensional sphere is the collection of points in a one-dimensional space (a line) that are the same distance from a chosen center. As shown in Figure 13.2(c), this amounts to two points, with the "radius" of the zero-dimensional sphere equal to the distance each point is from their common center. And so, the lower-dimensional analogy alluded to in the preceding paragraph involves a circle (a one-dimensional sphere) pinching down, followed by space tearing, and then being replaced by a zero-dimensional sphere (two points). Figure 13.3 puts this abstract idea into practice.

We imagine beginning with the surface of a doughnut, in which a one-dimensional sphere (a circle) is embedded, as highlighted in Figure 13.3. Now, let's imagine that as time goes by, the highlighted circle collapses, causing the fabric of space to pinch. We can repair the pinch by allowing the fabric to momentarily tear, and then replacing the pinched one-dimensional sphere—the collapsed circle—with a zero-dimensional sphere—two points—plugging the holes in the upper and lower portions of the shape arising from the tear. As shown in Figure 13.3, the resulting shape looks like a warped banana, which through gentle deformation (non–space tearing) can be reshaped smoothly into the surface of a beach ball. We see, therefore, that when a one-dimensional sphere collapses and is replaced by a zero-dimensional sphere, the topology of the original doughnut, that is, its fundamental shape, is drastically altered. In the context of the curled-up spatial dimensions, the space-tearing progression of Figure 13.3 would result in the universe depicted in Figure 8.8 evolving into that depicted in Figure 8.7.

Although this is a lower-dimensional analogy, it captures the essential features of what Morrison and I foresaw for the second half of Strominger's story. After the collapse of a three-dimensional sphere inside a Calabi-Yau space, it seemed to us that space could tear and subsequently repair itself by growing a two-dimensional sphere, leading to far more drastic changes in topology than Witten and we had found in our earlier work (discussed in Chapter 11). In this way, one Calabi-Yau shape could, in essence, transform itself into a completely different Calabi-Yau shape—much like the doughnut transforming into the beach ball in Figure 13.3—while string physics remained perfectly well behaved. Although a picture was starting to emerge, we knew that there were significant aspects that we would need to work out before we could establish that our second half of the story did not introduce any singularities—that is, pernicious and physically unacceptable consequences. We each went home that evening with the tentative elation that we were sitting on a major new insight.