A Romance Begins

                                                       A  Moment in Time 

Sometimes things seem to flow with definite direction and purpose, as if orchestrated or arranged, each detail coinciding almost effortlessly like fallen leaves making their way easily down a stream and coming together in an  eddy, spinning and dancing in a circle and then moving along, each particle with almost a will.

So it was on this brisk spring day. Mark was up on the roof of the observation building taking in the view, studying the weather and, as usual, wondering where everyone was going and why. A few years managing a complex like Exit 51 and you developed a sense of what Mark called "road consciousness".

Mark's hands rested on the concrete parapet. He looked out toward  where the red clay of Mt. Scott met the blue of the April sky and noticed a few low clouds whisk along in the cool breeze. He watched the exit ramps and the grey and black and colored cars and trucks flash their signals and put on their brakes as they circled down and around and taxied off the high-speed thruway. "Good visibility today. Mondays are lucky"  he thought as Lauren came up behind him, two cups of hot coffee, one in each hand. "Monday luck" she announced. He turned and smiled, smelled the coffee and returned her smile. "You're reading my mind. I was thinking just that". He looked at Lauren, her smile and laughing eyes, her soft brown hair blowing across her cheek. The air was cool and the sky was blue. She had turned to survey the traffic. The early morning light had somehow matched the turn of her pretty face. The air was sweet. He had never seen anything so fine. He reached out and touched her cheek with the back of his hand. She was so pretty. . He drank the morning in with the coffee. Lauren jumped back and looked up. "What's going on?" she wanted to know.  "I don't know" Mark said, almost apologetically. "You just looked so pretty".

What he didn't tell her was the news about a possible strategic by-pass of the exit. Mohammad and Amir, the Saudis, had been quietly planning to siphon off a major flow of traffic directly south of the main interchange and through Exit 50. It wasn't yet clear why they had bought up so much land a few miles north of their inflows. It could have been a major tourist attraction or a shopping area. Who knows? It was a serious threat. Mark would have to counter attack to protect their position. 

The moment passed. It was special. In a way, a few seconds seemed to answer hundreds of years of unstated affection. It was new, as new as Exit 51.

                                                    Schechter's Study

Back in Schechter's study  the three astronomers stood staring at the last run of photographs arranged upright  against translucent white glass panes.  Michael strained to regain his professional  equilibrium, but the previous two nights had disoriented him. "Here we are Michael", Schechter pointed out a star cluster. "Here's where we measured the expected gradient in frequency. This confirmed a null result. Sorry about that." Schechter sounded disappointed but objective. "I'm sorry too Sol. I can't get my head clear this morning."  Michael and Laura had been in Santiago for three days now and each night they both had experienced similar dreams of increasing intensity. Laura had told Michael, "I know these people like I know you. I understand my job there. I can smell the room. I know my way around the countryside. It's unreal the detail." Michael had listened and compared what she said to what he remembered. The same thing had been happening to him. It was more than uncomfortable or puzzling. It threatened his rationality. "What had they bumped into? Was it some sort of hypnotic suggestion brought on by the fatigue of travel and the stress of the research? This was his original hypothesis, but it fell short in too many areas. It felt as though they were being purposely directed toward a future point in time, not only the two of them, but most of who they knew as well as a large number of the new people they'd met here in Chile. It was if his entire world were being repositioned into the future somehow." Michael was thinking how strange this all was as Laura came in with a pot of coffee. "Perfect", he said, "exactly what we all need." 

It was over this pot of coffee that Michael just laid the whole thing right out on the table.

Schechter would have none of it. "You're totally out of your mind Michael. Excuse me but the whole idea is ridiculous. Even if it were true it would be ridiculous." This made them smile. Laura laughed. "Do yourself a favor and take a day off. Rest here in the courtyard, on the chaise over there in the shade. Sleep out here for a while. You'll get over it. Try it!" He insisted.

He was right. Two hours later, Michael woke refreshed. His head was clear. Not only that, he knew exactly what was going on. 

                                                                           Clean Up

 

Some things never change. There might be a very good reason that the ritual of clean up has been immortalized as it's been and carried on almost intact in its rhythms and style for so many thousands of years. Some men specialize in discovering hidden meanings in relics and theorizing about such things. In fact, the "checker board" that Manuel and Juan were studying, as they readied themselves waiting for the start of evening maintenance,  did not seem so different from those used by the ancient Romans for much the same purpose. Brooms and mops resting on one shoulder, They planned out their evening program of setting the stage for the next shift while they idled and gossiped away their free time. "How's your brother in law doing over at the power station?"  Juan asked. Manuel was a part time employee at maintenance. During the day he ran the "Red Hill Cafe", home of the best fried fish this side of south Texas. "It's a good job  - no problems" , Manuel replied. Charles, his brother in law had moved down from St, Louis to Oklahoma in order to work at the Exit. He met Manuel's sister at a party in Oklahoma City. He was a civil engineer with a master's degree in traffic line power requirements.  His whole family were engineers and technicians. Manuel and most of his relatives were local, descended from the Apache as the story went. "Charles has the comfort of his office and the hum of the generators. I have my cold beer and fried fish and my music", Manuel smiled at the thought.

They heard approaching footsteps and jumped up. "It's got to be the chief. He's early tonight", Manuel muttered. They both started moving their mops like they'd been at it for hours. "Evening gentlemen. How's it going?" Mark asked. "Nearly done, it was clean this morning!" Manuel answered. It was true. Static electrically charge brooms pulled anything not nailed down out by the roots and left very clean surfaces. They could be employed automatically, of course, and often were.  Even though, Mark preferred on-site monitoring. Mark did a walk through at the beginning of each shift. The weather looked clear for tonight, but it was too close to budget-time to take any chances.

 

Schechter in Santiago

                                                               Schechter

 

Solomon Schechter was born in Vienna in 1934. His Jewish parents arranged for friends to take him to England in 1937. Schechter grew up in London where German was spoken in his home and English at school. He could remember nothing of Vienna or his parents and never saw them again. His "parents", who were non-Jews, told him that they left Austria because of the difficulties the war brought.  He was told about his parents and his origins when the war was over. He was 11 years old at the time. Up till then, he had to suffer the taunts of his classmates who called him  a "stinking Nazi" for his accent and "parents" who were Austrian nationals. Like so many refugees, after the war, Solomon was forced to confront an identity crisis in a world that had no real place for them. Like so many orphans walking through the rubble of the aftermath of WWII, from Paris to Moscow, from Shanghai to Tokyo, across North Africa, Indonesia,  and the once bright coastal resort cities of the Mediterranean, children wandered homeless and hungry with no real place to go. After the war of Independence,  Solomon went to Israel for a trip and decided to stay. He had found the closest thing to a home available to him.  

Now it was 2013 and President Romney and Vice President Ryan had been inaugurated, The world waited to see what this new administration would do to correct the very heavy economic crisis and hoped that stresses would be relieved around the world. The new president had vowed to unite congress toward this end. 

Schechter scanned through some news stories and then brought up the most recent data from their Doppler study and started graphing the results. "Mark will not be particularly happy about this", he thought. He looked at the fountain in the middle of the courtyard from his study. "I hope they enjoy their stay anyway".

 

It was late afternoon when Michael, his family and Laura arrived at Schechter's villa in Santiago. There was music coming from the courtyard, already in shade, and tables had been set up around the fountain as they made their way inside. There were already many people there and many introductions were needed. Dr. Schechter had gone well out of his way to make sure his guests would be comforable. Laura noticed Jan standing by the bar with a glass of something in his hand which he held up in greeting when he recognized her. She smiled at him and made her way over past three musicians dressed in colorful serapes, jeans, boots with spurs, and Chilean sombreros. Their music was sweet and special, spontaneous as if designed for this very evening. It was one of those moments when all things seemed to coincide into a perfect harmony. "Laura, so good to see you", Jan kissed her cheek. She was thrilled at it all. "And you Jan, likewise. How long have you been here?" "Since yesterday morning, but we've only been drinking an hour or so." Laura giggled and noticed his slightly inebriated state. "Have you eaten yet?", she asked. "Only hors d'oeurves, the shrimp are excellent", he answered as the music rose slightly and ended. "Come let's sit for dinner. Dr. Schechter has something he's going to tell us." "I hope we've  found something significant." Laura said as they made their way to the dinner tables. Michael will be so happy."

Exit 51

                                                       

                                                                             Exit 51

Exit 51 was part of the Oklahoma City major junction. It's official designation was  J1OK-51 but it was known as Geronimo by everyone who worked there and most of the locals. It was one of the eight primary "feeder" exits of the junction and was located about 20 miles southwest of the center of the complex. Geronimo carried three complete transport conduits which included 16 lanes of ordinary civilian surface traffic and one high speed rail line each. Four of the surface lanes were high speed as well. A total of sixty miles of the exit run could be covered in less than five minutes with translucent fabric in the event of weather risk beyond safety tolerances. The average thru traffic of Exit 51 approached 800,000 tons a minute!

Mark Green was the executive director of Exit 51. Lauren Bielec was his administrative assistant. There were over 20,000 employees at Exit 51; more than half of them were full-time. The year was 2294. 

Mark stood on the roof of the observation building and took a wide look along the intersecting concrete and steel lines of the exit. It was late afternoon and lights were already coming up into the darkening blue gray sky from the exit thru-ways.  He finished a cigarette and gulped down the rest of a cup of coffee. He was worried about their budget and whether they would be able to improve their kiloton rate  this next quarter. He liked to gauge the traffic flow  by the sound of the traffic hum. He came back into the administrative office and hoped Lauren wouldn't notice his smoking. "It's moving along out there, but I don't think we'll see anything positive tonight She had turned in her seat, away from a broad bank of viewing screens and replied, " We'll take the pictures and analyze them as usual." She looked right at him, her eyes direct and kind and her pretty little face framed by dark curls and added, "You've been smoking again Mark, you know it's no good for you". He was annoyed at her familiarity. After all, he was the executive director. All he could think of was the half eaten snacks she left in her desk and the equipment she would sneak out of the office. Somehow he remembered her sensitivity and that she "lived" here and decided to ignore his reaction. "Yes, we'll just go ahead with the observations and hope for the best. Gosh, I hope they give us some feedback on our budget soon." Mark looked at her and saw his own anxiety reflected in her face. So much depended on the expansion program approval. "I'll talk to Sam again in the morning", he said, trying to reassure her. He had a very strong feeling that they'd been through this before, but all he could recall was a light green and gray colored room.

The Seed

                                                                            
                                                                     The Seed

"You must have been really tired." Michael mentioned to her on their way up to their rooms. "I was totally out" she answered. "I was so deep into this strange dream that I thought I was in another room,  all white and green and gray and no windows and doors. I heard knocking from about a light year away! It was so odd till I finally woke up."  She looked at Michael. He seemed distant. "What is it?" she asked. "Nothing", he paused and added,  "It was probably the fish we ate at the cafe, or maybe all this Spanish." Michael smiled. "We were both very tired from the trip. Let's get some good rest. Good night." Good night Michael."  What he didn't tell her was that he vaguely recalled a feeling of being trapped in a room without windows while napping.

The morning was cool and the coffee sweet. Michael and Laura skipped breakfast and grabbed some coffee cakes and headed out to the "Rover", a Jeep Cherokee they used to shuttle the astronomers and crew up from the residence to the observatory platform. The driver smiled and spoke English with some sort of European accent. "I'm Jan, a graduate student assisting Dr. Schechter. Good Morning". He introduced himself and several landmarks on the way up. He was tall and thin and had reddish blond hair. He couldn't have been more than thirty, if that. He had not shaved for a week or so and he grinned broadly when he spoke. Laura took an immediate liking to him and his casual, modest,  and informed way. "So that's the seacoast?" She followed his words. "Yes, you came here from Antofagasta, just over there - see?"  "This place would make a great observatory", she joked.

They all laughed. "Indeed, and the richest view on this earth of the Milky Way at night. It's breathtaking."

The observatory included four huge large telescopes, each with hexagonal cell mirrors adding up to an 8.2 meter diameter. The platform also included several auxiliary telescopes. The large telescopes were housed in huge rectangular large box-like domes with metallic sheathing. The four of them together presented something like an advanced, space-age apartment complex appearance. All sat on an extremely large field, much like an airfield tarmac, perhaps more like a "spaceport". The platform stood close to 8000 feet above sea level and afforded extremely wide views of the desert, and, of course, the sky above.

The "Rover" party arrived at UT1, or "Antu" it's Chilean Indian name and entered the building through a lower side door. Up a set of steps to the main floor, they found Dr. Schechter by the instrumentation with a rolling cart and a single lap top connected to a high resolution visible and near-UV spectrograph. "Good morning Michael. Good morning Laura. We're just now setting up for tonight's measurements. Let me show you what we have so far."  Orange peaks surrounded by dotted lines that represented probable errors appeared on his computer screen. "Here's the 13.2 billion light year object, Fuzz ball we call it, and here's the sun behind it. Both are for hydrogen." Michael took a look at the two peaks, one superimposed on the other. "OK, he said. What about closer in?" Schechter showed him the next pair and Michael looked at him. "Well?"  "They're both just

where they should be. Sorry!" Schechter was matter of fact. "You mean all that work at Keck was just instrumentation errors?" Michael asked. "Possibly atmosphere or any number of subjective errors." He looked disappointed as well. "Well there goes that paper" Michael was visibly upset. Like so many scientists before him, he was looking at a null result. For every glowing radium experiment, there were thousands that just sat there and did nothing at all. One of the most famous null results was the Michelson-Morley Ether experiment which ultimately disproved the existence of a cosmic "ether" and yet opened the way to an entirely new set of theories about light and its propagation. This was on Michael's mind as Schechter interjected. "Not at all. We have good data and like all good little scientists, we'll complete the program and report our results. It's our job." "Yeah, another UFO story disproven. I don't like being classed as a "little green men" astronomer" Michael said sarcastically.  Schechter added, "Neither do I". They looked at each other for a long moment and then both of them started to laugh. This lightened the tension and soon Jan and Laura started laughing too. "We'll just do the job. After all, that's why we're here. Might as well enjoy it." Laura had a way of summarizing realities.

The Site

                                                          Chapter 3   -   The Site

It was a short flight into Antofagasta from Lima. Michael, his wife and teenage son Josh,  and Laura were early and hungry. With  a three o'clock appointment at Altacama,  a few hours till lunch, and a curiosity about Antofagasta, they consulted their tour guide, rented a  taxi and found the "Segunda Muelle" . They chose a table outside, under the shade of some palms, not far from two men who were talking and drinking beer. 

After fumbling at Spanish, and Josh and  Laura laughing at his feeble attempts. Michael was thoroughly frustrated. "Perdon, no Ingles, thank you" The waiter stood and smiled. "Sign language Dad"... Josh pointed to his open mouth and said "Food" The waiter laughed and handed them menus. Carlos had noticed all this and was smiling too at the situation. He offered his help.  "Let me help you please", he smiled politely to them. "The fish is always very good here. May I order for you?" Michael was relieved. "Please", he answered. Laura noticed the other man and asked Michael to invite the both of them to their table.

With the help of Carlos and his easy friendly translations they were treated to a warm local introduction to Antofagasta and its most popular features.  Miguel invited them to his villa for fried fish and music under the stars and offered to drive them all up to the observatory.

And so a somewhat bumpy beginning smoothed out. The meal was excellent and soon all six of them arrived in very good spirits to the security gate of the Paranal Observatory in Miguel's minivan. Michael and family and Laura were immediately shuttled up to the observatory. Miguel and Carlos waved them goodbye and good luck.

The ride up to the top of the hill, where the array of giant telescopes stood, afforded a view that thrilled most new visitors. The shrouded giant instruments appeared almost like dancers on the desert stage, an introduction to some kind of galactic ballet. Here in the powder blue sky the contrasting white of the  observatory housings were introduced as the hill receded with the climb up. It was breathtaking, truly exhilarating. It was worth the wait.

"You were right Michael", Laura acknowledged, "this was the right place".

Dr. Solomon Schechter greeted them with open arms and a smile. "Michael, your family and your assistant Laura. Welcome to Paranal".

Michael had first met Dr. Schechter at the University of Vienna during an event celebrating Christian Doppler's birthday that coincided with work the two of them had been doing on anomalous Doppler shifts for very distant objects. They had become fast friends. 

It was then in Dr. Schechter's apartment on a cool October evening that a new theory about a "bounded" physical universe was formally born. Certainly, bounded physical universe models, complete with energy, mass, time,  and space formulae had already been generated and discussed in the literature. This was something quite different though. It was based on a view of the physical universe as a type of developing entity, that followed a type of "intelligent design" and "grew" like living organisms  along the lines of current life evolution theories. More like a city "grows" on our planet than anything else. Call it advanced construction for lack of anything more definitive. Michael first looked at this idea while driving on an interstate highway and looking at signs that read: "New construction ahead. Caution. Road ends. Take next exit on right 1/2 mile."  He considered the possibility of "the end of the road" for the known physical universe. This was the first time he could mentally grasp an actual boundary to the physical universe.  Order on one side and chaos on the other.

Many papers, discussions and plans followed and now they were going to take a very careful look for some possible "construction signs"  at the very edge of the known universe.

They were led to their rooms in the "Residencia".  Laura looked out at the view across her small balcony. It was surreal. A  smooth almost Martian landscape with a blue-gray sky met her gaze. Reddish brown coarse terrain and distant low lying mountains across the horizon filled the afternoon panorama.  A person unfamiliar with the Atacama desert might easily consider this place an outpost for an advanced culture on some far away world

Cerro Paranal was not chosen for the beauty of its days, but for  clarity of the atmosphere by night.  The nights skies were dazzling for their brilliance.

This had been a long day for Laura and she took her shower quickly and shot into bed without even unpacking. The cool evening air came across the open patio and caressed her slender tired body. She nodded off as memories of the trip down from Lima, the taxi ride, their lunch in Antofagasta, and the ride up to the observatory with Miguel and Carlos played through her mind. She wondered what it what be like to work with Dr. Schechter. He got on so well with Michael. She was deep asleep, dreaming of a room with off-white walls and green and gray furnishings, different, perhaps Chilean, when Michael knocked on the door. She heard the knocks as if from a great distance, but couldn't quite disengage from her dream. Again, the knocks, and she wondered what they were and where the exit to the room was. She saw no door, no windows. Then finally she woke and opened her eyes and heard Michael. "Laura, are you there?" He assumed she was either deep asleep or out. "Michael, yes,  I'll be right with you. Give me a few seconds to dress" . "No hurry, I'm just down the stairs. We're having a snack or something. Take your time".

She looked at her watch. "Goodness, it's been four hours!"  She was still tired and had a mild headache as she followed the winding staircase down to the ground floor and waiting smiles and a nicely arranged buffet. Everyone was in good humor as they munched on celery and carrots, potato chips and dips, vegetables and fruits she couldn't identify as well as plantains and beans, fish and sauces, something that tasted like chicken salad and probably was. It was all very tasty and went very well with the wine and conversation.

"Dr. Schechter has already begun the survey".  Michael had begun filling in Laura on what she missed. "Apparently, he became impatient and assumed we decided to tour Peru." Everyone giggled. "Not so - we spoke on the phone about this. Don't believe him Laura, he intends to turn you against me".  He smiled. "We had ideal viewing conditions and I took advantage of the situation" , he explained. "See, didn't I tell you? He's out to take credit for the entire program." Everyone laughed as Michael continued. "No, seriously, he's invited all of us down to his palatial estate in Santiago where he has already begun his paper taking full credit for the program." Michael was laughing himself. He'd had too much wine. "Stop it Michael", Schechter interjected, "what he's trying to tell you is that I did invite all of you to spend a few days with me at my home in Santiago where I always do my study." Laura brightened at the idea and the cordiality of their colleague. "How very kind of you Dr. Schechter. Thank you so much."  She meant it. This was turning into a very good trip. It felt like they were on their way to a significant discovery. This expedition into the unknown seemed to be following an auspicious path.

Antofagasta continued

Not all the metals of the Chuqui pit area belonged to Codelco, the Chilean national mining company. Recently, a middle eastern conglomerate, Jheru Zahab, had purchased gold and silver mining rights to surface and underground sites adjacent to the giant excavation. Carlos had seen their advance team working in the field and overheard the head geologists discussing precious metal yields in the laboratory with some of their engineers. They had very strong Arabic accents and for some reason Carlos took an immediate dislike to them. Perhaps it was the way they refused his offer of coffee with a flip of the hand. Maybe it was because they never seemed to smile. He decided to keep his distance.

If he would have overheard and understood their comments in Arabic, he might have understood his attitude better. Machmoud, the taller of the two Saudi engineers whispered through his thin cut mustache. "Soon, we'll own enough of this land to easily control the exports. Then we won't have to pretend"  The other turned  and spoke quietly. "From your mouth to God's ears."

"¿Que pasa Miguel?"  Carlos took a chair alongside Miguel and signaled the waiter for a beer  pointing to Miguel's bottle. "Bueno... ¿cómo están las cosas en la mina? Miguel inquired about life at the mine. "Asi...another day, life as usual. " Carlos reported.

They met often for lunch, taking turns with the bill. The fish was always fresh and always excellent. Carlos was from Santiago and had been accepted to work at Chuquicamata several years back. He met Miguel's sister at a party and they married after a relatively long engagement. It was a good life for him, good salary, interesting work and good company at the lab. Maria was a beautiful girl, encouraging, strong for her small slender figure, and outgoing, as were all of the Sanchez family. His family were not  descendents of fishermen though. They had been more like professionals. Accountants, clerks, and a few doctors and lawyers described the Escobars of Santiago.  His father taught Chemistry at the University.

So there was a rift. Carlos was far better established along currently accepted economic lines, while Miguel and his family were more firmly anchored in the social fabric of the region. Carlos was still an "outsider" in the Atacama.

                                                     

Antofagasta

Here's the beginning of Chapter 2 - just a start.

                                                       Chapter 2   Antofagasta

A true testament to the force of human development, Antofagasta stands on the edge of the Pacific in northern Chile a  bright, multicolored, almost toy-like, modern, busy major port city.

 There's every reason that centuries of Spanish suppression of the indigenous Inca peoples would have rendered the area even drier and more desperate than life's resources allow, yet the synthesis of the Inca spirit and the industry the colonization brought had instead worked effectively to distill incredible wealth from the minerals of the region over much of the last century.

The sun god continues to smile down on this bustling desert city.

The average annual rainfall in Antofagasta is on the order of one millimeter (0.04 in). This is like a small cup of water thrown over your head once a year! Some weather stations in the Atacama Desert, the reported "driest place in the world", have never received rain.

Here, under the shade of a palm at a sidewalk cafe, Miguelito sat with a  cool green bottle of  cerveza contemplating its effect on the aridity of  the region. "Maybe Carlos has new aire acondicionado in his villa but I have this cold beer in mine" he thought.

Miguel worked with his brother on their fishing boat as their father and his father and as many generations as you could count had worked. Even through the centuries of mining copper and silver, his family had forgone the dream of mineral riches and set their sails to the open sea and its bounty of fish. They had managed to stay more or less free and independent with their fishing skills and tools, but they could not do much better than feed and clothe themselves and their children. They had their songs. Miguel also played a good enough guitar to make the stars glow with a special magic over the sands of the beach at night near their little house. Indeed, the smell of frying fish over an open fire and the music from Miguel's guitar was more than enough for most men to call it a life altogether worthwhile. Add cold beer and you touched heaven.

Carlos, his brother in law, was a geologist at "Chuqui" the largest open pit copper mine in the world. Actually, he was a technician with an associates degree in chemistry, but he worked for a team of geologists and considered himself a geologist since most of his work consisted of sampling and analyzing different ores for copper content. This was an extremely valuable skill when you consider that a third or more of Chile's foreign trade is composed of processed copper ore. It is virtually and actually pumped out of mines like the Chuquicamata to the port of Antofagasta and into ships headed for Europe and the East, not so differently than the Spanish shipped silver and gold back to Spain for so many many years. Perhaps, still following the same ancient dreams that provided the ships for Columbus, it might have been that since most of the mines had been nationalized by Chile,  this time, the wealth would be divided in a more equitable fashion.

.

It's been much colder these mornings since my last post. Wet and gray and cold. Let's hope things brighten up soon. Too gloomy!

I added the second part of the first Chapter - Laura. I hope it gives you some insight into her character. This was a major purpose of the chapter.

Chapter One  - Laura    continued

Dr. Gornstein relayed his doubts to Laura about getting enough time at the observatory on the way down the steps.  "It just doesn't seem to be working out. I don't like the feel of it. We'll try elsewhere". He made the decision quickly, something Laura liked about him. She trusted his judgment and decided to let it be. As usual, as soon as she had comitted to a course, she could preview most of what would be. Thousands and thousands of  brilliant colors and forms flashed through her mind. She scanned an array of many different kinds of emotions and perceptions, fears and elations, losses and challenges, changes and growing, mystery and discovery; beautiful and meaningful discovery. She let it flow through her being. "These things would happen", she smiled at the certainty. 

The lecture hall was a small amphitheater. At the front  was a semicircular stage about a foot off the ground and, against the wall, half a dozen green sliding chalk boards arranged side by side.  In front of this stood Doctor Gornstein  with a pointer just behind a classic laboratory demonstration table with the usual sink and and gas connections. The words "Where in Heaven Are We?"  were written  very large with an oversize piece of yellow chalk across two of the boards. Laura sat at the back of the auditorium by a projector with a remote and her notebook. It was the third  time she would assist for this lecture. It was probably the hundredth time for Dr. Gornstein and it was as highly refined a piece of work as you would expect.

"So where in heaven are we?" Dr. Gornstein began. "33rd and Walnut!", a student answered as many of the students as well as Dr. Gornstein and Laura chuckled. "Yes, indeed, Stuart, that's exactly where we are; right here."

Laura began dimming the lights on cue and clicked the first slide up onto a very large and wide screen as a beautiful panoramic photo of the Milky Way Galaxy and Magellanic Clouds filled the darkening auditorium. Taken at the observation site of the VLT (Very Large Telescope) over the desert in northern Chile, it presented the exact "stepping off point" to the larger orientation the students would experience this semester. It would also be quite an extraordinary  step for Dr. Gornstein and Laura, and although he was not quite expecting  it at this time, Laura was.  

It's been a very cold and gray day. Ugh! A perfect time to read the first installment of

Alien Uploads

                                                                           Alien Uploads

                                                                    Chapter One:  Laura

Laura watched Dr. Gornstein leave  the lab. It was obvious that something was bothering him.  He'd go out, light up a cigarette,  stare up at the sky and come back in with "answers" .  It was still cool in early April and a few clouds obscured the moon and Sirius. Dr. Gornstein  liked to gauge the clarity of the night sky by the brightness and definition of some of the stars in the southern constellations. "We're not going to see so well tonight, but we won't miss that much either" he said as he came back into the lab. He knew Laura didn't like him to smoke and he felt a bit guilty. He was also frustrated and disappointed at their research progress. He hoped Laura wouldn't notice. She shrugged and answered "we'll do what we can." and added, "you've been smoking again Michael. You know it's not good for you". Laura was his graduate research assistant. She had turned in her chair and looked at him from her desk. He was edgy. They hadn't received replies from either of the two major observatories they'd applied to for telescope time and he knew she expected positive news. Her familiarity irked him. He jumped on what she said. "How's it your business if I smoke or not?" "The smoke comes in here with you. It's on your breath and your clothes and it can hurt me" she countered. His anger mounted. All he could think of was the leftover sandwiches in her desk, the paper and pens she took out of the lab, and calling him by his first name without ever asking him if it was OK. "Look, if it's that much of a problem for you, you can go home right now where it's safer." In a few seconds her face screwed up as she tried unsuccessfully to suppress the reaction and started to cry and squeak words. All that came out was something like "I'm only trying to help you" between sobs. He knew he'd blown it.

He remembered the last staff meeting and how vehemently he'd insisted on the principle of student understanding being the major product of their department. "it's really why we're here..." he'd summarized. "...This is a school it's not any other kind of business...we're here for them."  They couldn't help but agree of course. That's what carried them forward in their research. It's what paid their salaries. His lab was not his playroom and he knew that. If anything was primary about his considerations of his work it was that. Yet, here he was putting his own comfort and interest ahead of his best student. "Laura I'm sorry!" I should not have spoken to you like that..." he launched into his teacher to student humor that always worked in class "...even if you call me by my first name without even asking me if it's OK...and even if you leave half eaten sandwiches in your desk for a week...and take paper and pens from our lab..." She was smiling now. "This is your home. You know that. As much as it is my home, it's your home too."  "We'll call it even then Dr. Gornstein and pursed her lips into a wry sarcastic smile."  "I'm sorry I was disrespectful" she added.  He smiled. "Everyone calls me Michael, come on".

It was late when they quit taking pictures.  He was driving home on the expressway and had begun thinking again about their role in all this. The story of astronomy was the story of man staring up into the heavens and wondering about his place and purpose. Ages and ages of development and conjecture, exploration and new tools.  New theories and technologies ran parallel with the developments of new materials and instruments. Now, it was the almost dizzying developments in ICT to deal with. "They weren't kidding about that "giant step for mankind" on the moon either," he thought. Hubble was supposed to be the astronomy giant step. It had already been more than that. Now the Keck telescopes, the Gran Telescopio Canarias, and the Giant Magellan Telescope stood in a chronological line like some kind of grand cosmic plan, ever so carefully coordinated, to reach and see further and answer key questions.  His own fascination with the stars had somehow become lost in the details of his work.  "This dance with light and its invisible partners",  he had called it once,  had slowed to a walk.

At home he checked out his emails from the GTC again.  Nothing had posted. They were either not interested or nothing was happening . There was always Keck, but last year left him feeling less than enthusiastic about the work they'd done.  The cool reception and  general lack of interest in their project had been disappointing. "What'd you expect, leis and grass skirts" his wife had teased when he mentioned their lukewarm welcome. He had expected quite a bit more. "More like, Captain Gornstein and his crew of cadets;  space - time travelers off to the edge of the universe on a mission to save mankind from the unknown,  have arrived,"  he answered with a smile.

It had rained all night and was still raining as Michael pushed quarters into the parking meter and rushed into the Physical Science Building. He preferred to park on the street whenever he was early and lucky enough to get a space even though it meant several trips down to the meter. He had a faculty parking permit, but it was a long way from the lot to the building entrance and very inconvenient at times, particularly when the weather was bad.
He looked up and down  Walnut and 33rd streets from the window of his corner office.  A flood of memories came back;  his first year at Penn and four of his high school  friends packed into his '55 stick six Chevy, rushing to make their first class. He smiled at the thought of running up the steps across the street to the Towne Building or even here for Physics classes.
Somehow it seemed that a large part of who he really was remained in his fifth grade classroom looking out from the window at the cool rain falling onto the cement of the schoolyard while they were all warm and secure within the strength and knowing care of the School District of Philadelphia.

The staff meeting focused on the values of cultural interaction aiding science. Sometimes it seemed just politically oriented, but it was true nevertheless. It did help. New fresh viewpoints. Different perspectives.  Different cosmologies. It did fit together. It wasn't actually the university kowtowing to political pressure. "The expanding universe" he thought and smiled. The sun had come out suddenly and   Spring entered the lab  in the person of Laura wearing a light green sweater and a  bright early morning smile. "What's the Gran TeCan say?" she asked as concerned as he had been.  

 

A Brighter Day

Well, here's the view I wrote about yesterday. Today the sun's out and it's not so gray at all.

I hope the "Potamus" made you giggle. We've had over thirty wild turkeys at once prance across that lawn as well as one large brown doe with white spots. A flock of robins landed here about a week ago, but still no Potamus. Actually, who knows? They are very difficult to spot! Wait! Click on the picture to enlarge it and see if you can spot the Potamus. A rather young Potamus is right there climbing on the swing!!

View From the Kitchen Window

It's actually kind of gray this morning. The thermometer tacked onto the window outside reads about 37 degrees Fahrenheit. A few snowflakes settle down quietly up here in Northern Vermont. We're only 6 miles from the Canadian border. A dead or nearly dead paper birch still stands about ten feet directly in front of the window. It has a green painted bird feeder tied to a branch about as high as I can reach to refill it with nuts and seeds each morning. Little chickadees and an occasional woodpecker or bluejay jump down from the branches and take a nut and fly away.

Depending on your mood, it's a very sad morning or a so-so morning or a beautiful exciting morning.

Here's a piece I did about five years ago. I thought it was cute. Let me know what you think.

                                          The  Vermont  Potamus

The Vermont Potamus (Mustela-Pinnepedia potamus) is the only known member of a family of land-transitioned, semi-aquatic marine mammals. A truly remarkable creature in adaptability and general behavior, he still survives around some lake regions in northern Vermont. The potamus is often mistaken as a small bear or large opossum, or sometimes as a wild turkey, moose or minivan. These misidentifications are probably more due to the innate ability of the potamus to assume the coloration and character of his surroundings rather than the unfamiliarity of the observer.  Displaying a truly remarkable facility for cryptic coloration, the potamus can disguise itself in a few moments to blend in completely with whatever background he might find himself. In this way, he avoids predators or anyone else whose company he might not prefer at the moment.

     It is not known exactly why or how the potamus transitioned from the lakes, where he apparently thrived for thousands of years, eating small fish and breeding along the shores, to his current habitat where he is normally found further inland, usually near fast-food restaurants. Scientists theorize that there might be a correlation between his drift inland toward settled communities and another uncanny ability demonstrated by the potamus; namely, mimicry.

     Possessing vocal chords, the potamus normally emits cries, barks and shrieks not totally unlike that of a seal. Together with this, the potamus can and does mimic sounds he hears. He can, and will mimic the human voice with remarkable fidelity. Perhaps he was first attracted to fast-food restaurants by discarded bits of food left by some patrons. However he arrived there, he has come to frequent these places, usually hiding in the bushes, disguised as a bush or paper bag or pigeon eating a french fry. It is very difficult to see through his cryptic coloration. . Only those familiar with the potamus notice a pair of large brown eyes, which, for some unknown reason, he simply doesn’t camouflage.

     The really intriguing part of his behavior indicates a high intelligence. Some have tagged his demonstrated intelligence as clever and some as wily, shrewd, or just someone to avoid. The potamus, having acquired a taste for fast-food products, perhaps through discards, watches motorists as they pull up to the drive-in order speaker, and he listens to what they say. Perhaps the person will say “cheeseburger, fries and a chocolate frosty”. The potamus will then wait till there are no people near the speaker, often at night, stand in front of it and mimic exactly what he heard. He has watched the customer get cheeseburgers from the window. He knows what he has to do and so he goes to the drive–in window and waits for the person to open it, usually with the bag of food nearby. He then reaches in and grabs it and runs.  Certainly, they have become a nuisance and, as you might expect, many of the chains have taken steps to prevent losing food this way. The upper management for a major chain, for example, had developed a coding system to screen against the potamus. They instructed their personnel to ask the question: “Are you a potamus?”, which they had to abandon after complaints from customers and revise to “Are you a human?” which has proven effective, if awkward, at times.