Green Comet

Continuing the serial release of The Plainsrunner under a Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike license – (CC-BY-SA).

Tallgrass’s mom discovers something in space..

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rjb

Chapter Thirty-Two – Harmonics

Tallgrass’s mother, Sage, and his father, Professor Tailor, finally had a major breakthrough in their study of the artifacts. It had to do with the vibrations. They had studied the vibrations exhaustively and found nothing. There were no hidden patterns there. No secret code to discover. The only thing they could say with any certainty was that there was a correlation between the length of time a person spoke and the length of the ensuing vibration. But that was all. Every path from there led to a dead end.

The other vibrations, the ones triggered by the proximity of the two artifacts, were a different matter. Once again, on their own, there was nothing there. They just vibrated as long as they were within two meters of each other. That might have been it if the Professor hadn’t had a pupil who was majoring in mathematics as well as physics, with a minor in music. One day she was in the lab assisting with an experiment, when she said, “Professor, can you hear the harmonics?”

“The what?” asked the Professor.

“The harmonics,” said the young woman, who happened to have perfect pitch. “From the way these vibrations interact with each other.”

The Professor bent close. “I don’t hear anything,” he said.

“No, sorry,” she said. “Of course not. I can’t hear it either. It’s not audible.”

“Then what?” said the Professor.

“You can feel it,” she said, putting her hands on both gliders.

He put his hands beside hers and cocked his head. Then he looked at her and shrugged.

“Can’t you feel it?” she asked.

He started to shake his head, then stiffened. “After you spoke,” he said. “Nothing before, but after …” He stopped and looked at her with wide eyes. “And again after I spoke.”

She was nodding vigorously. “It gets stronger when we talk.” she said. “Are you sure you couldn’t feel it before?”

“Positive,” he said. “Only after we talked.”

“Hm,” she said. “I guess it’s a little weak, but I can definitely feel it.” Then she sang a sustained note of clear pitch, and they felt the harmonic form like a standing wave. She slid the note up and down, and they felt the response follow. He sang a note, not nearly as pure as hers, and they felt another harmonic. Then they both made notes and moved them around, and felt the vibrations from the two artifacts. They played for a while, then they happened to catch each other’s eye and their singing broke down into laughter. For a few minutes they were helpless to do anything. Imagining what would have happened if someone had walked in on them made them laugh so hard that they had to sit on the floor.

When they got hold of themselves, they got busy setting up the apparatus for a proper experiment. They still needed to sing, because the gliders wouldn’t respond to artificially produced tones, only to voices. They did find, though, that they could use recordings of voices, which allowed the Professor’s pupil to get on with her other studies.

The experiments produced tangible results which could be reported to the journals and published. They weren’t able to draw any concrete conclusions from it, other than that two artifacts in close proximity would produce interesting harmonics with their mingled vibrations. It was frustrating. Here they were finally getting somewhere, and the results were so clear and tantalizingly suggestive, but ultimately inconclusive. The Professor lost a lot of sleep, wracking his brain to no good purpose. He spent many hours with Sage, going around and around with it, and coming up with nothing useful.

The published papers got a response from the scientific community, both from independent researchers and from the other people who also held artifacts. With much discussion, and months of painstaking protocol, they arranged to bring the artifacts together and see what would happen. The three held by universities and museums were easier, while the three in private hands were more difficult. The private owners naturally wanted to profit from it, in the form of wealth and prestige rather than scientific knowledge. When they were told that wouldn’t happen, that five gliders would be enough, two of them agreed to join anyway. They must have seen some advantage to being part of something that was catching the imagination of the world, rather than holding out. The third one refused, probably out of spite, and was quickly forgotten, other than in a few news stories on the theme of miserliness.

That wasn’t the only news. Sage also discovered something through her astronomical studies. Her latest area of interest was the Lagrangian points, where the gravity of the bodies in the solar system interacted and formed areas of relative stability. She had been studying them long enough that she had a feel for how they should behave.

Professor Trueway called Tallgrass to his office, saying that he had some important news regarding his mother. Tallgrass hurried there as quickly as he could, trying to keep the worry and anxiety at bay. When he burst into the office, his face betraying his feelings, he saw a smile fade from the Professor’s.

“What is it?” he asked breathlessly. “What’s happened to my mom?”

The Professor’s smile fell completely away. He hastened to reassure Tallgrass. “Nothing,” he said. “Nothing has happened to her. It’s nothing like that.”

“Then what?” said Tallgrass, slowing down and getting control of his breath. “What’s this about?”

“It’s okay,” said the Professor. “I’m sorry I worried you.” He frowned. “I should have thought.”

By now Tallgrass was calm. He was relieved, but still curious “That’s okay, Professor,” he said. “Just tell me.”

“Oh, of course,” said the Professor. “Well, not to beat around the bush, your mother has made a discovery. In astronomy. She’s discovered something exciting.”

“Exciting? How?” asked Tallgrass. “And how did you find out before I did? She always sends me a notice when she publishes a paper.”

“She hasn’t published it yet. I found out about it because I’m on the mailing list for her newsletter.”

“She has a newsletter?” Tallgrass felt strange learning something about his mother from someone she didn’t even know.

“Yes,” said Trueway. “That’s common practice these days.” He shrugged modestly. “I even have one.” He waved that away. “Besides, even if I wasn’t on her mailing list, we’ve been keeping in touch anyway.”

“About me, I suppose,” said Tallgrass.

“Well, yes, of course.”

Tallgrass frowned. “I hope she hasn’t been …”

“What? Oh, no! No. She never interfered. She just wanted to, I guess, keep track of you. I think she misses you quite a bit, Tallgrass.”

Tallgrass’s frown slowly went away. Of course she missed him. He missed her. If she wanted to “keep track” of him, how could he complain about that? How many times had he caught himself wishing she was near when he had something on his mind? They were a quarter of a world apart for the first time in their lives. Apart from the person who was the biggest part of their lives. He smiled and nodded his head. “Of course she does,” he said. It still felt strange to be learning something about her from someone she’d never met, but he could see that it made sense. He felt his view of the world expanding. He nodded again and said, “So, what did she discover?”

“Ah, yes,” said Trueway. “It’s quite exciting. At least it is to me. I have a strong interest in the field.” He saw exaggerated patience forming on Tallgrass’s face, and hurried on. “You know that she has been working on Lagrangian points, don’t you?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Tallgrass. “She’s explained them to me.”

“Good. Do you know which one is L1?”

“Yes. That’s the one between here and the Sun.”

“That’s right. Well, that’s where she made her discovery. She noticed that there’s something wrong with the bodies trapped in the L1 Lagrangian point.”

“Something wrong?”

“Yes. She says there don’t seem to be as many as there should be. And there seems to be a large body there. Larger than it should be. Something that large shouldn’t have got trapped there.” Trueway rubbed his hands together, and said, “I can’t wait for the paper to come out.”

“Something that’s too large to be there?” said Tallgrass. “Then how did it get there?”

“Exactly,” said Trueway. “How did it get there?”

“If it couldn’t be there naturally …” began Tallgrass.

“Then did someone put it there?” finished Trueway. “Yes.”

“You don’t think …” Tallgrass stopped. “Who could have put it there?”

“If someone put it there, then it was either us or it was someone else, obviously. Either way, it looks like some of the old legends might be true after all.”

“Where we used to have a grand civilization, and we flew up into space,” said Tallgrass.

“Much as we are doing now,” said Trueway. “Or there’s the other legend,” he said quietly. “The one where someone came here from another world and sent destruction down from the sky.”

They were both quiet for a while before Tallgrass said, “If that’s true, then they’ll notice us, and what’s to stop them from doing it again?”

“True,” said Trueway. “But they should have noticed by now. If they were watching, they would have seen that we’re building up. And then there’s all the radio we’re using.”

“Radio!” said Tallgrass. “Right. The worst taboo. At least among the villages.”

“So,” said Trueway, “if they knocked us down because we got too big, and for using radio, then where are they?”

“You’re right,” said Tallgrass. “If the legends are true, and something did come from the sky and destroy us, then why isn’t it happening again? And if that legend isn’t true, then who put that big thing in my mom’s Lagrangian point?”

“Well, maybe that legend isn’t true. Or maybe it is true and those people have died out, or gone away. Or maybe we did put it there during our high civilization. Or it could be something we haven’t thought of. It’s even possible that it’s completely natural and there’s just something about gravity that we don’t understand yet.”

Tallgrass thought about all that, then said, “Is there any way to find out for sure? Can we look at it with better telescopes? What about that one they’re talking about putting in orbit?”

“That’s still in the talking phase,” said Trueway. “You’ve seen the satellites we’re putting up now. We’re nowhere near doing something like that yet.”

“What about a better ground-based telescope, then?”

“Your mother is working on that. With her reputation, she can get time on any telescope she wants, so she has used most of them. There’s one more that she thinks might get her better data, but it will be a few months before she can get on it.”

“Couldn’t she get on it earlier if she wanted?”

“Probably, but the other astronomers are also doing important work, and she respects that. Besides, with the object being between us and the Sun, she wants to get just the right position on our orbit so they’re not in a direct line. Then she can mask the Sun with the horizon and get a better look. Even so, it’s a good thing the telescope is at such a high elevation, so the sky’s not as bright.”

“Oh, right,” said Tallgrass. “I didn’t even think of that.” He stared out the window of the Professor’s office, thinking, then said, “How about flying a telescope up really high in an airplane? Up where the sky is really dark. Or, wait, a balloon.”

“Both good ideas, and both with their problems, as you can imagine.”

“Of course,” said Tallgrass. “You can’t put a very big telescope on an airplane, and the balloon project would take time.”

“That’s right. So all things considered, we’re not going to get the answer any time soon.” Trueway caught Tallgrass’s eye and held it. “That’s why we’re working on something else.”

“Oh?” said Tallgrass, his interest piqued.

“Yes,” said Trueway. “Something that will take more than a few months, but something we’re going to have to do eventually, no matter what kind of telescopes we have.”

Tallgrass didn’t get it right away, but then the light went on. “Are you talking about a manned expedition?”

“I am. First we’ll have to convince everyone, but once we do that, I think we can be ready in about ten years.”

Continuing the serial release of The Plainsrunner under a Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike license – (CC-BY-SA).

Tallgrass and Seagrass take on the challenges.

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rjb

Chapter Thirty-One – Polo

Talking to Professor Trueway kept them going for a long time. Sleep banished, they had something to eat in one of the terminal’s restaurants, and listened to the Professor’s stories about the Academy.

“It hasn’t officially started yet,” he told them. “We’ve spent the last year preparing for the arrival of the first cohort.” He smiled at them. “I guess that would be you, wouldn’t it?”

“So there haven’t been any classes taught at all yet?” said Tallgrass. He contemplated taking another bite from his dry, tasteless biscuit, then put it down.

“Some,” said Trueway. “Some of the staff received instruction to bring them to the required levels. Some of us attended lectures out of interest or curiosity, or in some cases, to upgrade our qualifications. It was a great opportunity.”

“Is that what you did, Professor?” asked Tallgrass. “You said you had just become a professor.”

“Yes,” he said. “It was perfect timing for me. And I was giving lectures and tutorials at the same time, where I was qualified.”

“That must have been exciting,” said Seagrass. “To be in on the beginning of something like that, I mean.”

“It was,” said the Professor. His eyes unfocussed as his mind went elsewhere. Then he snapped back and said, “But now the real excitement begins. Preparing the first batch of students. That’s what all the preparation was for. Getting the bugs out. Streamlining procedures. Finding the kinks. It was so we could give the best possible education to the first class of space professionals.”

“Well,” said Tallgrass, “let’s hope we’re up to it.” He looked at his biscuit again, and pushed the plate away.

“Let’s hope so,” said the Professor, “because if not, we’ll just send you home and call up the next person on the list.” He smiled a wicked smile. “There are always plenty more waiting for someone to fail so they can get their chance.”

The youngsters looked at each other with big eyes.

Professor Trueway’s prophecy came true soon, and often. There were as many ways to fail as there were students who failed. Every time another one went down, Tallgrass remembered his rejected biscuit in the airport restaurant, and soon that became the idiom for it. The person who failed and was sent home was said to have “bitten the biscuit.”

Tallgrass and Seagrass never bit the biscuit, although they lived in constant fear of it. There was probably a connection there. The fear and self-doubt probably drove them to study hard. Between them they ensured that they both completely understood each new concept as they learned it. And because of Tallgrass’s lifelong habit of supplementing his learning at the library, they also had a good picture of where each new concept fit into everything else.

Tallgrass was driven by his need to succeed, but at least equally by his ferocious curiosity and love of learning. Seagrass was driven mainly by his need to keep up with Tallgrass. He didn’t want to be left behind by his friend, but there was more to it than that. Tallgrass liked to talk about things, especially the new things he’d just learned. He liked to hold them up and look at them from all angles. He liked to see where they fit in with everything else he knew. And he especially liked to speculate about the new ways they made him think about things.

Seagrass was always there for him to talk to. He knew he could rely on his friend to know what he was talking about. To see the implications of it, even if he couldn’t articulate them clearly. And once, years before, Seagrass had seen what happened if he let his friend down. When Tallgrass had no one to share his ideas with, he became frustrated and fretful, and Seagrass didn’t like that. Not only did he feel the duty of friendship, he also sensed that his friend was special somehow. He also felt a kind of duty to … what was it? The world? Knowledge? That kind of thinking made him feel uncomfortable, but he knew it was something. He knew that Tallgrass was important, and he felt honored to realize that he could play a role in it. All he had to do was try to keep up with him, at least enough that he would be worth talking to.

The Academy wasn’t all studying, though. It included field trips to places associated with the space industry. They toured the plants where they fabricated the parts for the rockets, and the one where they assembled them. They visited the labs where the electronics and computing gear were developed. Tallgrass was especially interested in the shops that designed and built the satellites. He thought once he was through the generalized education of his first couple of years, he might specialize in satellite technology and take it up as a career when he graduated.

Such was academic life at the Space Academy, but it wasn’t all dedicated to developing their young brains. Their educational philosophy included their bodies as well. All the students had to participate in at least one physical activity from the authorized list. They could choose sailing, where the only power available was muscle power. They organized back country expeditions, which interested Tallgrass very much. He liked the prospect of getting more familiar with the conditions his mother faced on her trek to the city. What he chose, though, was polo.

There were enough students interested that they could form two full teams of seven players each, with plenty of spares. What Tallgrass liked most about it was running flat out on a big grassy field, as he had done when he was little. The mallet and the ball and the goals were just the details that could justify a bunch of youngsters running around like that. Tallgrass wouldn’t mind just running on the grass, but the other students, and especially the school, seemed to feel that it needed some structure and purpose.

It was on the polo pitch that he encountered the bully again. He was not accompanied by accomplices this time, but he still carried the same attitude of aggrieved discontent that he could only seem to alleviate through aggression. It was more subtle, though, as he slowly approached maturity. He no longer accosted helpless people smaller than himself and stole their stuff. He’d learned that a lot of people didn’t approve of that and it could get him in trouble. He couldn’t understand why so many people were opposed to his right to take what he could. What about survival of the fittest? Whatever. He knew he couldn’t get away with that any more as long as the bleeding hearts were running things, so he adjusted his approach. His assaults were no longer so crude. Now he was refining his attacks on his victims feelings.

“Hey, Runny,” he said with his familiar fat-faced sneer.

“Oh,” said Tallgrass, startled and lost for words.

“What’s the matter, Runny? Nothing to say?”

“No,” said Tallgrass. “I mean yes. I mean, what are you doing here?”

“Why shouldn’t I be here?” asked the bully, whose name was Blunt. “Do you think I’m not good enough to be here?”

“No, of course not, Blunt. You just never struck me as the intellectual type.”

“Intellectual?” said Blunt. “You think you’re smarter than me, don’t you? I’ve seen your type before. You think you’re better than me.”

Tallgrass had also matured. Even though this encounter was bringing back all the feelings of the earlier bullying, he was able to keep them from overwhelming his mind. He said, “I think it’s more a case of you thinking that everyone is better than you, and I think that’s the whole problem.”

Anger flared in Blunt’s eyes, and he said, “Oh yeah?” He pushed closer to Tallgrass and said, “Now you think you can tell me what I’m thinking, eh? You’re just as big a jerk as you always were.” He smirked. “I guess I’m going to have to straighten you out, and this time your mommy’s not here to save you.”

Tallgrass sighed as he saw his ideal of the academic life wash away. He was trying to think of a way he could salvage something out of it when the coach called the teams in for instructions.

He was saved from the immediate conflict, but it didn’t save him from Blunt’s attentions. In the confusion of play, far out in the middle of the elongated two hectare field, Blunt pretended to be striking at the ball when he hit Tallgrass square on the leg. It didn’t break a bone, but it hurt severely and Tallgrass fell to the pitch. Some of his teammates had seen what happened and they turned on Blunt, whose own teammates rallied to him. It looked like trouble, and the coach was running out onto the field to intervene when Tallgrass struggled to his feet and spoke.

“I’m all right,” he said, looking at Blunt’s triumphant smirk. “No harm done.” He limped forward and reached to shake Blunt’s hand. “It was a good polo play.”

Most of the other players on both teams knew the truth, and the rest guessed. By now the coach had twigged to what happened, too. He clapped Tallgrass on the shoulder and said, “Good man.” Then he looked at Blunt and said, “Shake hands so we can get back to it.”

Blunt reluctantly complied, his eyes burning with resentment, and they went and finished the game. From that day forward, the reputations of the two young men were firmly set in the minds of their peers.

Continuing the serial release of The Plainsrunner under a Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike license – (CC-BY-SA).

Tallgrass and Seagrass take a big trip together.

Please join in the conversation. And subscribe so you don’t miss anything.

rjb

Chapter Thirty – Leaving Home

It was the first time Tallgrass had seen his mother cry, and it made him want to call it off and stay home. Sage didn’t handle it very well, shrugging off the Professor’s attempts at being supportive, and telling Tallgrass to not be silly. She thought of it as showing weakness, and that was something that she’d had forced out of her when she was banished from her village. Digger and Street discreetly found something to look at on the other side of the airport terminal while she struggled, and Tiny’s face wrinkled up with worry. Seagrass didn’t have time to worry about Sage, occupied as he was with the attentions of his adoptive parents. His mother was weeping without restraint, while his father resisted. It made him look angry, but Seagrass knew better.

Tallgrass and Seagrass were both attending the space academy on full scholarships. Tallgrass had a nagging feeling that it was unfair because he’d had so much help from his mother and the Professor. In addition to their constant availability for his hungry, questing mind, he knew that they were involved with the scholarship committees. Seagrass was uncomfortable because he feared he was there because of his friend Tallgrass. Not only had Tallgrass helped and supported him all through school, and virtually dragged him into his enthusiasm for space, Seagrass had long enjoyed having a friend whose mother was so powerful. As an orphan who understood what it meant to have none of that, he was well aware of how lucky he was. So, they both had their doubts, but they were both there on their own merits. At worst they were guilty of enjoying the benefits of supportive friends and family.

They had a seven thousand kilometer journey ahead of them, with three connections, all of which involved waiting for the next flight. In all it was going to take most of a day to get there. Sage fussed and worried and asked again if he had all his documents. Once again he flipped open his blanket to show her his wallet, secure in an inside pocket. He let the blanket fall and smoothed its crenelated pattern, then he smiled and opened his arms to hug her once again.

She smiled, then laughed at herself. “I’m sorry, Tally,” she said. “I know I’m acting silly. It’s just …”

“I know, Mom,” he said. “You’d like to come with me to protect me.” He winked. “With your spear and your necklace.”

Now she laughed out loud, and her friends with her. Only Seagrass’s parents didn’t join in, but only because Sage still kind of intimidated them. Their son did, though. He’d spent enough time with her to know why she was laughing. She said now, “You’re right, Tally. That’s exactly what I’d like.” She shook an imaginary spear. “Just let them try anything.”

Everyone laughed then, even Seagrass’s parents, and they were all feeling pretty good when the boarding call came.

It was a test of their endurance. At first they were buoyed by the excitement and adventure. That wore off four hours into the first leg. It was definitely exciting to be flying – the first time for either of them – and it did qualify as an adventure, but once you’re in the air, every hour is pretty much like the last one.

Conversation carried them for a while, but it didn’t take long to exhaust what they knew, and speculation gets repetitive very quickly when you don’t have much to go on. Besides, they had been over everything many times since they received the brochures months ago. After that, they were down to the food packed for them by Moonshadow, and the delicious sticky buns made by Seagrass’s mother. Even though they tried to ration it, it was gone before they finished the second leg. They were not even halfway there yet.

They were on their second stopover when they met the stranger. Tallgrass was sleeping while Seagrass stood guard, and the conversation woke him up. He heard Seagrass say, “No, thank you. We don’t need any help.”

Tallgrass was really groggy. He hadn’t been asleep long, nor had it been good, so his head was swimming as he tried to take in what was happening. There was his friend, still small for his age, standing resolutely between him and a strange man. The man, who was well-turned-out and quite presentable, was trying to look friendly, or at least non-threatening. Seagrass wasn’t having any of it. This was exactly the kind of situation they’d been warned about before leaving, and his orphan instincts were taking the lead.

Tallgrass said, “What’s going on, Sea?”

“Nothing, T,” said his friend. “This man was just asking if we needed any help.”

Tallgrass looked at the man, who was looking flustered. He asked him, “What kind of help?”

The man sighed and said, “Nothing in particular. I just thought that since you’re going to the Academy …”

“How do you know we’re going to the Academy?” demanded Seagrass.

“Well, it’s obvious,” the man said. “Your baggage tags tell me your destination. You’re two young men the right age.” He spread his hands. “Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll apologize and leave you alone.”

They looked at each other, then Seagrass said, “Anyone could have figured that out. What is it to you?”

The man smiled and said, “I’m going there, too. Look, I don’t have my cards on me right now, but my name is Trueway and I’m with the academy. I’m one of the instructors.”

“Trueway?” The name rang a bell with Tallgrass. He’d seen it somewhere in the literature.

“Yes. I live here, and I’m just on my way back for the commencement.” He was looking more relaxed now. “I saw you and thought we could travel together. That’s all.”

Tallgrass nodded and looked at Seagrass. “What do you think?” he said.

Seagrass thought about it, then said, “If you think it’s okay.”

Tallgrass thought it probably was. He said, “Well, Mister Trueway, I guess we’ll be traveling together.”

“That’s Professor Trueway,” said the man, looking embarrassed.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Professor,” said Tallgrass, who knew how important the distinction was.

“That’s all right,” said Professor Trueway. “It still sounds funny to say it. It just happened. I’ve just been home to celebrate.”

“Well, congratulations, Professor,” said Tallgrass, and they shook hands as he introduced himself and Seagrass.

“Tallgrass?” asked Trueway. “Of Sage? The astronomer?”

“Yes,” said Tallgrass, genuinely surprised.

“And Professor Tailor. They’re working together on the artifacts, aren’t they?”

“That’s right. How do you know about them?”

Trueway gave him a look. “Come on,” he said. “Everybody knows about Sage and Tailor. The books? The movies?” He looked back and forth in disbelief. “All the papers they’ve published on the artifacts. And your mother’s astronomy papers.” It was clear to him that Tallgrass had no idea how famous his mother was. “Never mind,” he said. “In fact, it’s refreshing that she’s apparently not made a big deal of it. It adds even more to the legend.”

“Legend?” Tallgrass knew how great his mother was, but he didn’t know that everyone else thought so too.

“Yes,” said Trueway, his eyes shining. “Does she still have the spear, and the necklace made of talons?”

That stopped Tallgrass. Suddenly it was into things that felt private to him. Trueway saw and quickly said, “Oh, I’m sorry. This is much too personal. I’m thinking of Sage the legend, when she’s really your mother. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” said Tallgrass, trying to sort out his feelings. “I’m kind of used to it.”

“Still,” said Trueway, “she’s your mother first, at least to you. All that other stuff is for people who don’t know her.”

“Yes,” said Tallgrass. “Yes. That feels right.”

“Good,” said Trueway. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“No offence taken,” said Tallgrass. “It just caught me off guard, that’s all.”

“Good,” said Trueway again. “So, let’s talk about something else.” The obvious thing was the Academy and everything he could tell them about it.