Archive for the ‘Series’ Category
The Theory of Geothermal Heating
Thursday, May 17th, 2007
(being an explication of the origins and initial reception of the new theory, together with an account of its rigorous testing)
Even in these enlightened times, Professor Robin’s theory was met with skepticism.
The Chronicle: “Nonsense of the Worst Sort!”
The Times, as expected, was more urbane: “Professor Robin’s radical Theory of Geothermal Heat has no foundation whatever.”
His fellow scientists were no kinder. Robin was expelled from the premier societies and ignored at meetings. The last straw came when Professor Philip, Chair of Earth Science at The University, had this to say: “Sir, do you mean that you believe the interior is a greater source of heat than the sun?! Poppycock! The Theory of Solar Heat is central to thermodynamics. It enjoys almost universal support and its predictions have been proven countless times.”
The gauntlet had to be taken up. After all, the matter involved considerations beyond mere science.
*
Robin mopped his brow. The drill rig towered above, but its shade fell elsewhere. Drilling was going well, and the bit should penetrate the base of the crust today. If his theory was correct, they would soon bring up samples of the hot mantle.
A shadow interposed itself between him and the sun. “Robin,” Cynthia said, “on a day like today it is difficult to believe that heat comes from within rather than above.”
“Dearest Cynthia,” he replied, “I have never claimed that we receive no radiant heat…” he swallowed. “I wish you would not tease about such things, given the attitude your father has displayed towards my suggestion of an alliance between us.”
With an expression of contrition she stood on tiptoe to kiss his forehead. “I have never doubted your brilliance. And I would love you anyway, were you quite wrong.”
Prof. Michael strolled up, hands in pockets. “Ready for ignominious defeat?”
“Au contraire!” Robin retorted hotly, but he was interrupted by an excited shout from the driller:
“New sample, Professor!” They hurried to the rig. The newest core lay on the plank table.
“Lighter color, more porosity… what are those dark blobs?” Robin mused.
Cynthia plucked one out, popped it in her mouth. “Mmm, blueberry.”
“Observe the steam, Michael.” Robin gestured towards the core. “Clearly the temperature of the interior is much greater than that on the surface. You have the pleasure of witnessing my vindication!”
“Vindication? You have proved yourself wrong. Although I have to admit some chagrin myself. The Bakists were on the right track after all. Oh look! Whole wheat!” He licked his lips.
Parthenia Rook, Episode 1: The Third Oldest Trick
Friday, May 11th, 2007
Parthenia Rook was an accomplished pilot, an expert with clockwork, a certified public accountant, a master of more than 870 convincing disguises, a sharpshooter, a xenobiologist, a famous stamp collector, and a world champion at reverse checkers. Yet none of her skills could help her as the power-crazed Bonobo King dangled an unconscious three-year old over edge of the gasbag of the massive dirigible Regret and instructed Parthenia to jump, or he would drop the child.
She had no doubt he meant what he said. Yet if Parthenia jumped, who would save the passengers of the Regret from being crashed into the middle of the World’s Fair and Exposition? Parthenia hesitated. The Bonobo King cackled and let the toddler slip another inch. If only his exoskeletal armor didn’t give him such incredible strength!
“The primary difference between humans and bonobos, as I see it,” said the Bonobo King putting one hand behind his back, “is that when nature decided to branch into our superior race and your naked and confused one, it left only us with the ability to act decisively.”
“If you drop that girl, there won’t be anything to stop me from killing you,” said Parthenia.
“It’s not a girl,” said the Bonobo King.
What? Parthenia gaped at the child. She was wearing a little pink dress. She had tumbly blonde hair. How–
Thwack. The paralysis dart slapped meatily into Parthenia’s thigh. She had fallen for the third oldest trick in the book. In seconds, she would lose consciousness and fall. She had only one chance.
“Hey!” Parthenia cried out, pointing into the distance. “What’s that?”
The Bonobo King looked. Parthenia leapt, her brain swirling as the paralysis dart began to take effect. The Bonobo King had barely begun to realize his mistake when Parthenia crashed into him, grabbing the falling child and entangling them both in the ropes that crisscrossed the Regret’s gasbag. The Bonobo King was less fortunate: the force of Parthenia’s tackle sent him sprawling, then tumbling over the edge and down into the clouds. Parthenia could hear his maniacal laughter as he fell, and a part of her feared that she might have somehow just played right into his hands. Or paws. Whatever.
“Don’t worry, little girl,” Parthenia mumbled as the paralysis overtook her. “I’ll wake up in just a few minutes and get you to safety.”
“I’m not a girl,” said the child, and laughed like the Bonobo King.