From the USM Southworth Planetarium
“Atoms and evenings”
THE DAILY ASTRONOMER
July 19, 2011
Christmas in July
Tense wait in restless line to glum face sentry with boundary-challenged wand. Shaky flight through turbulent winds beside 120 pounds of snorting child flesh. Toxic orange pop splash on new blouse. “Oh, I’m sorry about that. Frankie, be careful. What do you say?” Snorted insoucient apologies during suicide descent. Hates this part. Pilot in pit finally had it? No. Safe landing. Compressed humanity fidgeting in humid tube. The seconds sprout anchors. Incoherent thanks over static. Doors open; oxygen again. Trudges toward tunnel; passes cleft chin and practiced grin nodding to mortals. Turn. Twist. Turn again. Terminal buzz. Doesn’t care. Wants what’s left of luggage. Ah, the conveyor belt ho! and over strange shoulders a grinning son-in-law. Dreaded, but expected. Thirty-two years of a perfect marriage makes one capable of smiling at dismay. “Ah, you’re here, ma-by-gaw!” Yes, Ted, you genius. Nanosecond embrace. “Where’s Helen?” Under sedation? “Couldn’t come. She’s picking up Jenny’s friend for a sleep over. Full and fun house tonight, isn’t it?!” Spiffing. Traversed half a continient to become a 62 year-old zoo exhibit for teenage girls. Yes, you’ll be me someday if you skip meals and don’t pray.
Luggage emerges. “Oh, let me get that. You must be exhausted after your flight!” Yes, they had me get out and turn the crank twice. Trailing knight to parking garage. Hazy jet streams coarsing through pillars. Concrete footfalls echo. “Lovely car.” Key chain click. Car lights flash. How does that work, again? Beep. Unlock. Trunk pop. Hoist in case. Slam. Bam. On the Road. Situation demands politeness, so I’ll sleep. Closes eyes and rests against window. Son-not-by-choice shouts something. “I’m expecting some visitors later, myself.” Huh? Didn’t quite catch… Darkness returns. Mile markers pass. Ted whistles. Shows off air conditioning system by rolling down all the windows. Glass support suddenly gone; my head’s outside… I’m awake!
“Is that too much air, Maw?!”
Driveway ahead. Deceleration. Blinker. Head still attached.
Stop. Unbuckle. “Ah, Helen’s home. She’ll take care of you. I have some things to do in the garage.”
Walking. Door open. “Mom! You’re here in one piece.” “Yes, Helen.” Hug. Mind the head…
“Oh, you look exhausted. Why not go into the guest room for a nice lie down?”
Great tone of voice. Is that before or after the bib fitting?
“Maybe later. Where’s Jenny?”
“In with her friend playing Farmville on Facebook. She’s been anxious to explain it to you.”
Thirty seconds later.
Lying down in Guest Room.
“I’ll call when dinner’s ready, Mom.”
Yes, do that.
Strange bed. Firm surface, tight coils. This is for guests? Ted’s probably lost both friends by now.
Breeze is soft and warm. Air redolent of hyacinth. Distant mower.
More tired than I thought.
Barking dog three light years away somewhere out in another part of July.
Funny how you don’t realize how tired you are until you actually lie..
Hears a door opening gently. What time is it? Seems much later. Sky looks bronze through eye slits.
“Shh…she’ll eat when she wakes up. Let her sleep.”
Evening air exhalations. Everything peaceful. Oberon and Puck playing hopscotch outside.
Mr Darcy is grilling down the street. Maybe I’ll just stay here forev…
Bam! Bam!
The foundation cracks and shatters as a yak bangs his head against a bridge abutment and screams “It works! It works! It works!”
What do you know, I’m awake. Almost dark now.
Mad killer tears door off hinges.
Good…
“Maw, it works! It works!!!”
Damn, it’s Ted.
“Wake up! Wake up! Come out into the living room!!”
Sounds of his retreating footfalls down the corridor.
Car doors close just outside.
One hundred twenty decibels of undiluted son-law resounds throughout the house. “It works! It works!”
I guess I’m getting up.
Front door opens and slams. “Ted, what’s going on?! We could hear you screaming outside. The girls are scared to…oh, my God what on Earth have you done to the living room?!”
Ted’s maniacal laughter follows.
Oh, let’s go see the living room.
Helen in profile by the door. Mesmerized, wide-eyed and quivering. My daughter..speechless and terrified. Serves her right.
Approaching now. Ted laughing. Helen looks faint-headed. Girls nowhere in sight.
Passing family photos on the wall and three more steps until I view the
Large black scorch mark on the wall, like a mammoth freshly-swatted spider.
Let’s see..what else…
Arrayed around it a tangle of multi-colored lights, most dangling, all blinking. On the carpet, strewn with snow (!), a tidy stack of exquisitely wrapped presents arranged in a circle. Across the floor, filaments of wrapping paper, as though spit out of a shredder.
Set on the paper, a tray with steaming cups of hot liquid. Next to them, a tiny snowman looking, well, confused.
Amongst all this, Ted, in a sweat stained santa hat and lab coat nearly dancing with glee.
The front door opens again. Jenny and a timid-looking black haired girl enter.
“Mom, is everything……”
So, now we’re all standing dumbfounded before the sight of Ted dancing in a disaster area. This is sort of the vacation I expected, actually.
Helen, almost in tears, speaks first. “What have you done?”
Ted beamed. “It’ll take me a moment to explain.”
“I have time.” Helen sounds breathless.
“Einstein-Rosen Bridge, honey. Well, that’s the proper term. Really, it’s a singularity, a mathematical point of no dimension that I manged to fashion in the garage precisely on Christmas morning last year. I only said I was going out to varnish wood, but that was really something of a deception. I’m not that good with woodworking…” He spots his daughter’s friend and extends his blackened hand. “Oh, how rude am I? Hello, little one. I’m Jenny’s Dad. I was in the garage when Jenny’s mom took you two out to get ice cream. Great to meet you.”
How touching. Girl is trying to push herself through the wall pores as the hand approaches.
Ted backs away. “I get it. Shy…Me, too.”
“Dad, are you ok?”
“Never better, sweetheart! Merry Christmas!! What do you think?”
“I..”
“As I was just about to explain to your mother, I crafted a singularity, like a black hole, but somewhat different, in the garage on Christmas morning. I didn’t tell anyone what I was doing, because that would have ruined the surprise. Oh, boy, I’ll bet I’m the only guy on the block to actually cook up a real singularity.”
Family pride.
“Not that tough really, as it turns out, rulers are stuffed to the gills with singularities. Infinite number, actually, although infinity’s not a number, but a set. The problem is, what do you do with a singularity once you fashion one, because, let’s face it, the trick is not in the development but the application. That’s the real problem about being a pioneer. You have to figure out the usage, too. So, what did I decide to do?”
This moment of dramatic suspense is hanging limply like poorly hung Christmas lights.
“I sent Christmas to July! A wormhole connected the singularity through space-time and through it I sent Christmas. Or, at least selected pieces of it. You know, when all of you were in the den watching Ralphie’s Dad pulling that leg lamp out of the box? I snuck out here and tossed a few lights and presents through the Einstein-Rosen bridge, or the wormhole, and made sure they’d arrive in the summer. And to test the thermodynamical properties of my wormhole, I included a few cups of hot chocolate and snow. You’ll notice that the hot chocolate is still hot and the snow’s still frozen. It is like they appeared in an instant, which, of course, they did. My visitors have arrived!”
“Mom, should I call an ambulance?”
Count on Jenny to interrupt during the good parts.
“No, no, no!” Ted’s shouting, making us all much more at ease. “Sit! Sit! Sit! We have to celebrate Christmas. It traveled through a time vortex and we might as well enjoy it!”
Well, perfect time to humor the manic. I’ll sit in the car.
“Madge, there’s your favorite barcalounger. Girls, on the couch. Honey, over here, next to me. I want you to share in my triumph.”
Payback for taking that biker to the prom.
Well, this scene is Norman Rockwell. Two girls clinging to each other on the couch; shell shocked Helen poised on the most distorted homemade chair this side of an Escher painting and Ted who nearly slipped on carpet snow as he reached down for a present.
I wonder if I’ll get the serpent cadaver, valet’s kidneys or the black candles. Watching now as Jenny opens her big box, looking like a pint-sized explosives ordinance disposal expert. She opens, winces, and sees
“An Apple i-phone and X-Box Kinect!”
She’s smiling?
“And, for your little friend.”
Furious unwrapping. Room tension oddly easing…
“An X-Box 360!!”
“I hope it works, what will all the tidal forces associated with wormholes one can never be sure how much damage Christmas presents will sustain. You’ll notice what the differential gravity did to one of the wrapped presents.” He is now gesturing to the wrapping paper pieces strewn about the floor.
“Why don’t you two run along now and try those out?”
Jenny runs and hugs her father. “Thanks, Dad. You’re great!”
They happily flee away. Watching Ted pass Helen a present. Still anxious, she trembles slightly while opening it. She opens the wrapping and stares at the contents.
“Cashmere sweater and diamond necklace.”
“I wasn’t as worried about the diamonds, as they’re so hard and able to withstand the tidal forces. Although, a real black hole would have made short work even of crystallized carbon.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Madge, I believe this is for you.”
Wow. I can’t wait to find out what the…
Norelco Razor and Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issues years 1998 – 2010. Windfall.
“Yeah, well, that was the present I bought for Langley, but seeing as he’s coming later this week, you can have it.”
I’d dance if I didn’t have rickets.
Snow melting into water. Ted, still gleeful, hands us all hot chocolate. Perfect complement for the evening heat.
Ted takes his cup and sips it slowly. Helen, often rubbing the sweater against her cheek and displaying the necklace, has learned patience.
“I was actually aiming the Christmas fragments for July 25, so they’d materialize exactly five months after the holiday…”
Math skills…
“July 19th is close. After all, this is my first attempt. Now that I know it is possible, think of the possibilities. One thing I have always hated it the let down when the holidays end. Now, I can transport holiday fragments to other times, like time meteoroids. Thanksgiving cranberry sauce pops out in February; Independence Day fire works emerge in October. Green Beer shows up out of nowhere on New Year’s Eve; perhaps a little easter egg arrives in April…”
Doesn’t Easter generally happen in April, anyw…
“Into the future and, if I have my calculus right, into the past. Although, I haven’t had any formal education in astrophysics…”
Really?
“..the prospects of filling the year with holiday pieces are infinite, well, almost, because infinity isn’t really a…”
“Dad!”
There’s Jenny interrupting again.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“There are three Jack O’Lanterns in the bathroom!
“Three?”
“They made me jump when I saw them.”
“Are they all intact?”
“Yes.”
Ted’s smiles again and looks at us. “Well, I’m eventually going to get better at this.”